


A Cup of Jo(s)e

by obbel, rjtondale



Category: Music RPF, Reggaetón Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Baristas, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reggaetón RPF - Freeform, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obbel/pseuds/obbel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjtondale/pseuds/rjtondale
Summary: Someone had to write a coffee shop AU.
Relationships: J Balvin/Nicky Jam
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

“Caramel milkshake, extra whip. But she wants soy milk,” Jose says, nudging Nicky and gesturing probably not all that subtly at the customer walking in the door. She’s barely five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds, if he includes her massive mane. It’s always the tiny ones.

Nicky nods in agreement. “Don’t let Rebeca hear you calling it a milkshake, bro. It’s a _frappé_.” He does a curtsey-like motion as he says it. Jose rolls his eyes, shoving Nicky towards the milkshake machine.

“Good morning,” Jose says to the young woman as she walks up to the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Hi,” she says cheerfully. “Can I get a mocha frappé with extra whipped cream? And can you make it with soy milk?”

“No problem. Can I get a name for that?”

“Becky.”

Jose takes her money and tells her that it’ll be just a minute. Then he turns over his shoulder and hollers, “Nicky! It’s mocha, not caramel!”

“I got you, man,” Nicky says, appearing far too suddenly at Jose’s back. He leans down to rest his chin on Jose’s shoulder. They give Becky identical grins, and Nicky passes her drink over the counter. “Enjoy!”

Becky glances uncertainty between the two of them. “Thank you?” She reaches out cautiously for her cup as if it might bite her. She gives them a forced smile and hurries out of the store.

As soon as the door closes, Nicky starts laughing, and Jose cracks up along with him. “I think you actually scared her,” Jose says between breaths, leaning on the counter for stability.

“That was all you,” Nicky says, pushing him lightly. Jose pushes him back, and he’s ready to escalate into a full-fledged wrestling match. It wouldn’t even be a first for the store. But they’re interrupted by Rebeca, who pragmatically emerges from the office to stop them before they can get to that point. And chastise them for scaring the customers.

“Don’t think I can’t see you on the cameras,” she says. “I don’t know why I schedule you two together.”

“Because the babies only work one shift a week,” Jose points out helpfully. 

“Don’t call them that. That’s ―” Rebeca starts, but Nicky cuts her off.

“Totally true,” he interrupts. Then he adds, “If not for your dream team, how could we run the store?”

“Just behave,” Rebeca says, shaking her head. She turns to leave and head back into the office, but not before pointing an accusatory finger at Jose. “It’s a _frappé_.” 

“Okay, boss! _Aquí manda usted_.”

They can see Rebeca still shaking her head as she disappears back into her secret lair.

* * *

They’re still laughing a few minutes later when the door opens, and there’s a palpable atmospheric shift. _He_ has arrived. It’s the Hot Customer. He’s been stopping by quite a bit recently, and every single time has been wasted on one of the ungrateful infants who works there. But now, _now_ it’s showtime. Jose fights the urge to fix his hair. The Hot Customer is too close. He’d notice.

“A black eye, yeah?” Nicky tries, but Jose isn’t listening. His customer-service smile has turned into a real smile, his eyes locked on the customer. Nicky elbows him.

Nothing. Zero response.

“Hi, good morning,” Jose says. “What can I do for you?”

Nicky rolls his eyes. That is _not_ in their script.

“I don’t know, what _can_ you do for me?” Hot Customer says, and he’s basically eye-fucking Jose from across the counter. Nicky tries not to gag.

“Well,” Jose says, a sly smile starting to form on his face. Jose has never looked at _Nicky_ like that. “We have a wide selection of organic and fair-trade beans. I’m sure we can find something to your liking.”

Nicky has never heard Jose talk that way, either. Since when does he care about _organic?_

“Oh, I’ve found something to my liking. I’m in the mood for something… Colombian. _De la patria, sabes?_ ” Hot Customer lets his eyes dart to the little Colombian flag pin Jose wears on his apron.

Jose just about swoons. “ _No, no me digas que eres paisa también!_ ”

This is embarrassing. Nicky can’t let it go on any longer. He can’t let Jose continue to make a fool of himself like this. He interrupts, “Excuse me, sir? Mister paisa man? Can you go ahead and order, please? There’s a line forming behind you.”

Hot Customer turns around, glancing at the empty space behind him. He smirks at Nicky.

Nicky clears his throat, frowning. “I mean― the late-morning rush is going to start any minute now. We’re gonna need you to wrap it up. _Right_ , Jose?”

Jose looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Uh, I guess?”

“So if you could just order, thanks.”

Nicky makes a hasty retreat, muttering something to Jose about looking for more coffee filters. He speedwalks away from the counter and all but throws himself into the broom closet that Rebeca has optimistically dubbed the stockroom.

Alone, he wonders what the hell is wrong with him. Where did all that came from? If Jose wants to be sexually harassed by their unfairly good-looking regular, that’s his business. Although, Nicky would have appreciated being clued into the fact that Jose is, what, gay? Not-straight? They’ve been work friends for nearly a year. It should have come up before now, Nicky thinks. _He’s_ always been open about it. Why didn’t Jose think he could be, too?

Nicky realizes his internal therapy session is probably taking too long, and he needs to come out of the (stockroom) closet eventually. Even though he already did that. To Jose. Virtually the first day they worked together. Fuck it, this is getting him nowhere.

Nicky pokes his head out, and he sees that Jose and Hot Customer are _still talking_. Unbelievable! He walks back over to the refrigerator closest to them, dropping down out of sight and pretending to count the milk bottles. 

Hot Customer actually has the audacity to lean over the counter, eyeing Nicky. “Did you get those coffee filters?” he asks, his face the picture of innocence.

Nicky dutifully ignores him. Jose glances down at Nicky, a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” he asks, nudging him with his foot.

“Don’t worry about me,” Nicky says, trying to keep the pettiness out of his voice. “Rebeca just asked me to check the expiration dates.” He rattles some of the bottles around in the fridge.

“Okay,” Jose says. He still sounds concerned. But he turns back right away to Hot Customer. “So you were saying you have horses?”

“Yes, horses are my passion. I’ll show you. Next time you are back home we can go, ah, _riding_.” 

Jose says something that Nicky forces himself not to listen to, and then _finally_ rings up an order. It’s a black eye. Nicky was right, but being right doesn’t soothe his ruffled feathers.

“So what should I call you?” Jose asks.

“ _You_ can call me Maluma.”

Nicky can’t help himself. “What kind of name is Maluma?” he blurts out, standing up. This time, he at least has the foresight to have a bottle of milk in his hand, pretending to actually do his job.

“That’s what my friends call me,” Hot Customer Maluma says, and winks at Jose.

Nicky wants to give him a real black eye.

Jose leaves Nicky standing there angrily with the milk in his hands as he bustles around the shop making the drink, since Nicky is obviously not of any use at the moment. He gives it to Hot Customer Maluma along with his change, and Nicky thinks their hands linger for longer than necessary during what should be a strictly business transaction. Hot Customer Maluma leaves a generous tip in the jar, and it just makes Nicky hate him even more.

* * *

As soon as Hot Customer Maluma is gone, Nicky lifts his apron over his head and tosses it under the counter. “I’m taking my break,” he says.

“What about the late-morning rush?” Jose asks. Nicky doesn’t dignify the jab with a response, instead flipping Jose off out of sight of the remaining customers and Rebeca’s camera. Jose is still laughing when the door slams behind Nicky.

He makes a beeline for the office building two doors down from the shop, screeching to a halt at the security desk. Thank God there’s no one else in the lobby.

“Sech. Sech, I need your help. Please.”

Nicky’s best friend looks up from his computer and rests his chin on his fist. “I’m doing just fine, Nicky; how are you?”

“Please,” Nicky repeats.

“This can’t wait ’til lunch?” Sech asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“No. It can’t. It’s important.”

“Fine.” Sech gestures for Nicky to move over to the side of the desk so his view isn’t blocked in case any legitimate visitors come in. “Make it quick.”

Now that it’s actually time to explain what happened, Nicky isn’t sure where to start. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he starts to doubt whether it’s even a story at all. “A guy came into the shop this morning.”

“Stop the presses.”

“Sech, listen to me. This is like the third or fourth time he’s come in. And, bro ― this guy is _gorgeous_. Swear to God, my dude, my heart stopped the first time he walked in.”

Sech raises his eyebrows. “So, what, you’re in love? Is that your crisis?”

“Fuck, no,” Nicky scoffs.

“Hey! How many times do I have to tell you not to swear in here?” Sech looks around as if his boss might appear out of thin air at any moment, but the lobby is still deserted.

“Sorry. No. I’m not in love. He’s perfect _until_ he opens his mouth. The first couple of times were normal, but this time, he stood at the counter for like three minutes before he even ordered, just talking to Jose.”

“Three minutes? Did you time them or something?”

“No, I ― I didn’t time them. No. But it was a fu― sorry, a really long time. Three, three and a half minutes, at least. Everyone else just orders their coffee and goes.”

Sech sighs. “I’m still not seeing the issue, Nick. You’re bothering me at work because of an annoying customer?”

“Let me _finish_ ,” Nicky says, ignoring how whiney he sounds even to his own ears. “He wasn’t just talking to Jose. He was _flirting_ with him. And Jose was flirting back.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You see the problem now, right?”

“No.”

Nicky rolls his eyes and takes a step back from the desk. “Jesus. Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and you love me,” Sech replies with an angelic smile.

“Whatever, man.”

“So are you going to tell me the issue, or am I going to have to call security on you?”

“Very funny,” Nicky says. Sech grins again. “Yes. I mean, no. Maybe I don’t know what the issue is. It just felt wrong.”

That catches his attention. “Wrong like this guy might be a serial killer? Or wrong like you’re jealous?”

Nicky makes an unflattering sputtering noise. Jealous? Hardly. Hot Customer is hot, obviously, and maybe it would be kind of nice to be chatted up like that, but it’s not as if Nicky actually _likes_ him. Maluma can flirt with anybody he wants; Nicky doesn’t care. Unless Sech meant ―

But no, that’s too ridiculous to even consider. “I’m not jealous,” he says at last, realizing that he has abruptly stopped talking. “Serial killer, maybe. It’s weird to come into a place and flirt with the barista for minutes, like plural, before ordering, right? I’ve been in customer service half my life, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone stand around like that for _that_ long.”

Sech shrugs. “Maybe you just weren’t paying attention before. I’m sure it happens all the time.”

“Maybe at other places. But I can say for _sure_ I’ve never seen Jose flirt like that.”

“Was it customer-service flirting, or real flirting?”

Nicky throws up his hands. He wasn’t expecting the Spanish, er, Panamanian Inquisition. “Real flirting, man. He was basically melting.” He pauses, thinks for a moment. Then he adds quietly, “I didn’t even know he was into guys.”

“You didn’t?” Sech snorts. “You’re shoulder-to-shoulder with the dude, what, five days a week for a year, and you didn’t know that? I see him like twice a month, and I guessed.”

“Your gaydar was always better than mine. You sure you’re straight?”

“Ha. Yes, I’m sure.” Sech glances at his watch, then over his shoulder again. “You gotta go, Nick. Boss-man will be down here any minute on his rounds.”

“Yeah, I need to get back, anyway. Come by on your lunch?”

“We’ll see.”

Nicky flashes Sech a grin of his own on his way out the door. “That’s a yes. See you then.”

“We’ll see,” Sech calls after him, but Nicky is already gone.

* * *

With Nicky gone, Jose has no choice but to turn to Karol, who has been sitting in the corner the whole time. “I guess you actually have to do some work now.”

Karol doesn’t respond. She’s so buried in her phone, she probably wouldn’t even notice if the café caught fire right now. How she can get away with having it out when Rebeca is constantly watching them is beyond him.

“Karol.”

No response.

“Karol, you just missed the chance to make a black eye for that hot guy that’s been coming in  
here. The literal god.”

Nothing.

“Karol, the café is shutting down tomorrow and we’re all going to be out of a job.”

Karol brushes her hair out of her face and sends another text.

Jose sighs. “Karol, your boyfriend is here.”

Finally, _finally_ she looks up. “What? Where? He’s supposed to be at work.”

“He has a job now?” Jose asks. At least getting her talking will kill some time until Nicky gets back from his break.

“Yeah,” Karol says while still texting. “I’m not sure exactly what he’s doing. He hasn’t told me. But it’s for some kind of construction company, I think. Or maybe it was IT? Whatever. I just know he’s _always_ working now. Between our jobs and my classes, I hardly even get to see him anymore.”

Jose immediately begins to doubt whether Karol’s boyfriend actually has a job. But he’s not going to be the one to break the news to her.

“That’s unfortunate,” he says. He almost means it, too.

Karol doesn’t respond. She’s been sucked back into the phone. Jose returns to the register, keeping an eye out for customers, but no one comes in the store.

“It really is.” Karol’s voice startles him. She’s standing up, a few feet behind him. He’s not sure if she’s responding to his earlier statement; he’d already given up on getting an answer. “You’re lucky, you know. Getting to work together.”

“What?” Jose has totally lost track of the conversation. He has no idea what Karol’s referring to. He doesn’t get any clarification, though, because Nicky is coming back. He seems to be in a better mood than when he ran off, but he’s still quieter than Jose’s seen him in a while.

Karol retreats back into her corner, leaving Nicky and Jose at the front of the store.

“What’s up, man?” Jose asks. “You ran off so fast I thought you went chasing after our hot regular.”

“Ha, ha,” Nicky says. His heart’s not in it, though. 

“Maybe he got swept away by the _morning rush?_ ”

Nicky’s only response is to exhale loudly. Jose gives up, figuring it’s better to just let Nicky stew, and stew he does, barely saying a word to Jose until he announces that he’s leaving for his daily lunch ritual with Sech. Jose waves, but Nicky doesn’t look back to see it.

* * *

“So did Mr. Serial Killer come back?” Sech asks around a mouthful of their local halal cart’s finest.

It takes Nicky a minute to figure out who he’s talking about. Most of their conversation from this morning feels far away, even though pieces of it seemed to pop back into his head at the worst moments for the rest of the day. What had Sech said about jealousy?

He shakes his head. “No more creepy flirting.”

“Any non-creepy flirting?”

“Uh, no?”

Sech raises his eyebrows. “Then how do you expect to get anywhere?”

Nicky blinks. All of Sech’s words have meaning on their own, but his brain can’t seem to force them into a logical sentence. He stares at Sech blankly.

“You are hopeless,” Sech says, and that doesn’t make much sense either. “Are you still pretending like you’re not in love with your coworker?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Hey, man, keep your voice down.”

“I know, I know.” Nicky has heard the lecture about respecting Sech’s workplace’s property too many times, and he doesn’t want to lose the only decent lunch spot in a three-block radius. Now, though, he pushes his food away. His appetite is gone all of a sudden.

He’s not in love with Jose. He’s not in love with anyone. He thinks about his coworker a perfectly normal amount, and if Jose occasionally shows up in Nicky’s dreams, well, it’s probably just because they spend so much time together.

“You know you’re in love with him?” Sech presses.

“I’m not,” Nicky says.

“Then why do you come running to me every time he does something?”

“I do _not_.”

“You do. And why do you find excuses to talk about him? Why do you turn around every time someone says his _very common_ name?”

“It’s not that common,” Nicky grumbles. He doubts an explanation of names with and without accent marks will help his case.

“And why did you dream about him twice this week?”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Because you told me about both of them. Twice. Nick. You’re obsessed with the guy.” Sech sets his fork down like a mic drop. He waits for Nicky to say something ― to admit it, maybe ― but Nicky doesn’t respond.

He _likes_ Jose. He’s liked Jose since they first met, when Nicky was just glad to have a coworker out of his teens. Then they got to know each other better, and even though they haven’t quite reached the level of outside-of-work friends, they seem to fit each other perfectly. Nicky’s never met anyone else who matches his sense of humor so perfectly, not even Sech.

Shit. Maybe he _is_ in love with Jose.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. They’re coworkers. Nicky doesn’t know whether they’d even be allowed to date, if Jose is interested. And that’s a big if. He tells Sech as much.

Sech just shrugs. “Whatever, man. Just remember this next time Mr. Sexy Serial Killer stops by.”

Nicky rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about Hot Customer. Actually, he doesn’t want to think about any of this. “How’s _your_ love life?” he asks.

“Shouldn’t you be heading back to work soon?”

Sech is right. Sech is always right. Nicky mulls this over as he gathers up his things and trudges back towards the coffee shop.

* * *

Jose looks up at the door opening. When he sees it’s Nicky, he stops pretending to work. He tries to make a joke, but Nicky is still moping, and by the end of the shift, he’s so spacey that Jose runs through the closing duties mostly by himself. Karol snuck out the door right after Rebeca did, and that was several hours ago.

Whatever is on Nicky’s mind keeps him distracted enough that he wipes down the countertops twice but forgets to turn the lights off when they leave. Jose runs back inside to do it, and by the time he gets back outside, Nicky is nowhere to be seen.

They usually walk to the metro together, but Nicky seems to have other plans today. Jose looks around, wondering if Nicky’s just waiting around the corner or something, but he’s really disappeared. Jose shrugs it off, figuring that Nicky must have had an emergency. He’s never just left like that before. Jose tries to put it out of his head, but he wonders what’s going on the whole way home.


	2. Chapter 2

Jose expects Nicky to be there the next day. He knows better; they’ve had the same schedule pretty much since day one, no small miracle in a place like New York. But still, he finds himself missing Nicky’s presence, even if he’s being a total weirdo. Instead, he’s gotten stuck with Karol during the morning rush.

To her credit, she’s actually helping today, possibly ― definitely ― because her phone is dead. Jose heard her complaining about it as she walked in the door. She’d made a beeline for the spot behind the artificial sweeteners where they all keep their contraband, but came up empty-handed. No spare charger to be found.

“I think Rebeca found our stash, Karol,” Jose says. Karol turns an eye on him. “It wasn’t me. She got my fidget spinner, too. And Nicky’s gum.”

“Ugh,” Karol says, rolling her eyes. “My boyfriend’s not gonna like this.”

“Why? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You wouldn’t understand. He likes to know what I’m doing. Like, all the time. Fuck, he’s gonna be really pissed.”

“That,” Jose says, pausing, thinking of how to phrase things lightly. “That doesn’t really sound healthy.”

“It just means he cares about me,” Karol snaps back at him. “Not that you would recognize what that looks like.”

Jose’s not really sure what Karol is implying, but they don’t have time to get into it. A whole herd of tourists just crowded into the store, and judging by the group composition, the milkshake machine is about to get thoroughly abused. Jose counts sixteen pre-teen boys in matching baseball uniforms, accompanied by a few adult chaperones.

“Karol!” Jose says tersely, motioning for them to switch places. She’s better at handling children than he is. She rolls her eyes at him again, and he begs her silently with his eyebrows. She mouths “you owe me” before plastering on her business face. Jose runs to get more milkshake mix.

“I want a chocolate frappé!” the first not-quite-teenager says, very loudly. “Extra large!” He leers at Karol.

Karol stares right back at him, unwavering. His face grows uncertain. She raises an eyebrow.

“Please?” he stutters at her.

“That’s more like it,” she says, and stabs the frappé button with one dangerously long nail. “Next!”

All in all, Jose makes fifteen extra large chocolate milkshakes for most of the team, three double espressos for their chaperones, and one chai latte for the smallest member, a shy boy who mumbled his order so quietly that Karol had to lean over the counter so he could whisper it in her ear.

Jose misses Nicky extra hard when the milkshake machine jams up. Somehow he always knows how to fix it, but he’s never shared his knowledge. Jose ends up having to take all the mix out, flush the system, and put it back in. Miraculously, he manages to get it done in record time. It’s self-preservation, he thinks. He doesn’t want to be stuck in a small, enclosed space with the sugar- and caffeine-deprived baseball team.

Finally done with all the orders, he leaves Karol upfront while he goes to wash the milkshake mix off his forearms. He figures she can handle the regulars.

* * *

She does, but she also ducks out early. Once one pm hits and the line of customers trickles down to a manageable one or two every so often, Karol grabs her stuff and heads out the door.

“Later, Jose!” she yells. He’s pretty sure she was supposed to work until at least three when her replacement shows up, but he’ll take whatever help she’s willing to give. It’s not like there are that many people to serve. 

He kills the afternoon cleaning, restocking, and trying to find a new hiding spot for his fidget spinner. He thinks about hiding it under the sink, but it might get wet there. The plumbing in the building is questionable at times. He’ll have to ask Nicky, he thinks. He’s the one who came up with the first hiding place. Jose is sure he’ll come up with an alternative.

He’s investigating the space between the ice maker and the refrigerator, bent over slightly, when he hears a familiar accent.

“Maybe it’s not on the menu, but that’s definitely what I want,” Hot Customer Maluma says, and Jose can feel his face heating up. He turns around to see what Maluma’s referring to. He doesn’t see anything in the immediate area.

“Hello,” Jose says, hoping he doesn’t look totally stupid. “What can I get for you?”

Maluma doesn’t respond for a moment, just lets his eyes linger on Jose. Jose is pretty sure he’s blushing for real. Then Maluma pulls out his phone, leaning over the counter to show Jose a picture of some new coffee invention someone on the internet has cooked up.

“That’s not something we really do here,” Jose says, reaching for Maluma’s phone to get a better look. Maluma doesn’t let go of it, forcing Jose to get closer in order to read. “But since there’s no one here, I guess we can bend the rules a little.” He smiles at Maluma, and Maluma smiles back, and Jose feels pretty damn good about this whole thing until the door is kicked open, and an iPhone on a stick enters the store, followed by a human.

“What’s up _mi gente!_ It’s ya boy Lu-Lu-Lunay! I’m ‘bout to get this bread! Yeh!”

Jose and Maluma startle apart, putting an appropriate-for-the-workplace amount of space between them now that a livestream has entered the equation. Lunay, who was introduced to Jose as “Jefnier” just the other week, doesn’t seem to care that he’s ruined a _moment_. He sticks his face in between Jose and Maluma, pointing the camera at all three of them.

“Aye, it’s my man Jose! Jose, what’s up! This dude works so hard, man, y’all give it up for Jose!” A stream of hearts appear in the corner. Jose smiles at the screen, confused, not sure if he should say something, but the camera’s already been moved to Maluma. “And check this dude out! This is like the best lookin’ dude that’s ever come in the store, like for real. No homo, no homo, nah, it’s all love, but not like that, hahahaha!”

Lunay disappears into the bathroom, camera still with him. Jose hopes he’s not recording _that_. But who really knows.

“Uh,” Maluma says. Not even his charisma is a match for the _tour de force_ that is Lunay. “I’ll just get a regular cup of coffee, actually.”

Jose hands it to him, still not really sure what’s going on. Maluma pays and leaves, seemingly as confused as Jose.

Lunay reappears, changed into his work uniform, and he still has the camera out.

“Lunay?” Jose asks, uncertain about where the name change has come from.

“Yeah, bruh, but you can still call me by my government name, if you want. I know how you old school folks like to kick it.”

Jose thinks maybe he should be offended at being called “old school,” but he shelves that thought for another time. He says, in what he hopes is a calm and authoritative voice, “Whatever you would like to be called, that’s okay. But you should probably stop streaming.”

“Word, word, I got you,” Lunay says and doesn’t put the camera away.

Jose figures he’ll let Rebeca handle this one whenever she comes in next.

For all his antics, Lunay’s not a terrible coworker. He gets more work done than Karol, not that that’s saying much, and he doesn’t mind being told to clean the bathrooms at the end of their shift. He gives Jose a salute and marches off, cleaning spray in hand. Jose doesn’t give it much thought, too busy finishing up all the rest of the closing chores, until he realizes that it’s been almost twenty minutes, and Lunay has not come out yet.

Against the logical voice in his head telling him to just leave it alone, Jose feels the need to investigate. _Please don’t be dead_ , he thinks.

“Lunay?” Jose asks, knocking on the door. He hears music. “You okay in there?”

The door opens, and Lunay sticks his head out. He’s shirtless, for some inexplicable reason. Jose quickly takes a step back, putting his hands up to block the sight.

“Sorry!” he yelps. “Didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“Nah, nah, nah, chill, bro, it’s cool, it’s cool,” Lunay says, talking very fast. “It’s part of my channel. I do naked cleaning. Well, not naked ‘cuz that’s like illegal or some shit, but you know.” He rolls his eyes.

“What?” Jose wonders if this is some kind of prank.

“Yeah, man, check it out,” Lunay says, showing Jose his YouTube channel. There are, in fact, several videos of him cleaning the very same bathroom shirtless. They all have upwards of ten thousand views. Jose is stunned.

“Uh,” Jose says, still too bewildered to form complete sentences. “Why?”

“‘Cuz the ladies love Lunay.” He winks. Then his face falls slightly. “Actually, it’s mostly dudes, according to the analytics. But I don't care. Lunay is an equal opportunity employer. Plus these dudes are mad thirsty, and that means some fat Patreon checks, you know?”

Jose doesn’t know. He understands less of what Lunay’s saying than he’d really like to admit. But he also thinks that asking is probably just going to lead to more questions. So he just nods and leaves Lunay to his enterprises.

Lunay, to his credit, leaves the bathroom spotless. He walks out of the store, shirt back on, yelling over his shoulder, “See you next week!”

Jose just waves goodbye. He’ll have to ask Nicky if he knew about this, if Nicky ever snaps out of his funk.


	3. Chapter 3

The café’s never-ending cycle of outdated pop music is grating at the best of times, but on the days that Nicky works with Manuel, he’s ready to stab his own eardrums out with coffee stirrers within the first five minutes. It’s not that Manuel has a bad voice ― it’s _okay_ ― it’s just that he never. Stops. Singing. Nicky’s not even sure if he realizes he’s doing it.

On the other hand, being annoyed means that Nicky doesn’t have to think about _other_ feelings he might be having. In regards to a certain coworker who thankfully is off today. He’s not sure what happened. His conversation with Sech over lunch the other day had been… eye-opening, to say the least. But he’s not going to dwell on that.

“Cocoa latte macchiato, Manuel,” Nicky calls.

Manuel hums, which is not much less annoying than his singing. “Which is that one, again?”

Nicky smiles at his customer. “Excuse me for a second.” The smile vanishes as soon as he turns around to Manuel. They don’t have time for this. He counts off on his fingers: “Layers, man. Milk. Espresso. Foam. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, right.”

Nicky rolls his eyes and makes a mental note to talk to Rebeca about these kids’ training. If he’d been this incompetent three months in, she would’ve fired him without a second thought. If only Jose were here.

To help with the morning rush. No other reason.

At least there’s no sign of Hot Customer. He’s probably memorized Jose’s schedule by now ― he won’t bother showing up when it’s just Nicky and one of the babies here. Thank God.

They manage to make it through the rush in one piece, though every time Nicky has to explain how to make a drink, his desire to strangle his coworker to death grows. If he has to hear Manuel singing that Katy Perry song one more time, only one of them is going to leave this shop alive.

“Sorry for asking so many questions,” Manuel says.

Jesus Christ. The kid is the literal embodiment of that pleading-eyes emoji that he always uses when “calling” in “sick.” Nicky almost apologizes for snapping at him… but then the song changes, and Manuel hums along with the opening chords, and Nicky has to bite his tongue to keep from swearing at him.

“Remind me again why I got you this job?”

Manuel shrugs. “Because Tía Angélica would’ve killed you if you hadn’t.”

Right. The downside of living in New York ― suddenly everyone has a kid, a cousin, or a sister-in-law’s best friend’s nephew who needs a connection. Even if that connection is a customer service coffee shop job in an obscenely wealthy part of town.

“Where’s the other one?” Nicky asks. “Aren’t there usually two of you?”

Before Manuel can answer, the door opens again, and somehow Nicky is entirely unsurprised to see Hot Customer Maluma striding in. He glances from Nicky to Manuel and back. Nicky half-expects him to turn around and walk out when he realizes that Jose isn’t here ― as Nicky nearly had earlier that morning ― but Maluma approaches the counter without a moment’s hesitation.

“What can I get for you today?”

Nicky’s finger is already hovering over the code for a black eye, but Maluma studies the menu board for a long time. Nicky tries not to study him in return. He really is gorgeous ― especially this close up.

Finally, Maluma focuses on Nicky again. The eye contact is a little disconcerting after hours of customers staring at their phones or just looking through him, but Nicky refuses to break it. “I think I’ll try the Double Chocolatey Chip Crème Blended Frappé. Large.” Maluma says, straight-faced.

Nicky almost manages to hide his disbelief. His voice is level when he repeats the order back for Manuel, but his eyebrows rise a quarter of an inch, and of course Hot Customer catches it.

“What? You think I should get something else?”

“No,” Nicky says, clearing his throat. “Nothing wrong with that. Six fifty-seven, please.”

Maluma pays cash; with anyone else, Nicky would think the brush of his fingers as he hands it over was an accident, but with this guy, nothing is certain. Jesus. If he bites his tongue much harder, it’s going to come clean off ― and he can’t imagine that Rebeca will appreciate blood all over the counter.

The ominous silence behind the counter is a good distraction. No singing and no machine whirring means that, once again, Manuel has no idea what he’s doing.

“Move,” Nicky grunts. He pushes Manuel toward the register and takes over the drink-making himself. _If you want something done right…_

“So how long have you worked here?”

Nicky looks up from the half-finished drink, hoping against hope that Maluma was talking to Manuel. But no, of course not. Those brown eyes are locked on Nicky again.

“About a year,” Nicky says.

“So you probably know just about everything on the menu, then, hm?”

“Yeah.” There’s a double-entendre in the question somewhere, Nicky knows, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Maluma leans forward on the counter. “I think next time I come in, I might want to try something different again. Maybe something a bit more… exotic, no? Where is that accent from?”

There it is.

“Boston,” Nicky replies, deadpan. “Here’s your milkshake.”

That actually seems to catch Maluma off-guard. He takes the drink without a word and steps back from the counter. Nicky smiles to himself.

But of course he can’t have the last laugh. Maluma tips his cup toward Nicky, the mountain of whipped cream swaying dangerously. “Next time, then, Boston,” he says, and with a wink, he disappears.

“What does that even _mean?_ ” Nicky asks aloud.

Manuel doesn’t even hear him. He’s too busy singing along to Bruno Mars as he wipes down the counter. At least he knows how to do that.

* * *

Nicky waves goodbye to Manuel and Manuel’s mom when she comes to pick him up. Manuel ducks his head down as soon as he gets in the passenger seat, and Nicky laughs as they drive away. He makes a mental note to give Manuel grief about it next week. He plans out a lecture on gratitude on his way home. He’s lucky enough to get a seat on the metro, and he tries to spend the whole ride thinking about what he’ll say, but thinking about Manuel’s mom gets him thinking about his own mom, and suddenly he has an intrusive thought about Jose, and he wonders if Jose talks to his parents a lot.

Nicky would bet that he does. Nicky thinks Jose is probably a good son, even though he doesn’t have any actual evidence to support this hypothesis. But he’s pretty sure he’s right.


	4. Chapter 4

Nicky gets to work before Jose, a rare occurrence indeed. But he couldn’t bear the idea of running into him on the subway. It’s never happened before, but with the way things are going lately, he’s not going to chance it. Nicky woke up an hour early, never mind the fact that he didn’t go to sleep until well after midnight. It’s not like he’s in any danger of running out of caffeine.

Nicky opens up the store with the illegitimate copy of the key he made. Technically, Jose is the only other keyholder besides Rebeca, but Nicky has worked there longer, so he feels like he’s entitled to it. So far no one’s noticed, either, so Nicky figures he’s in the clear.

He’s turned all the lights on and started sweeping underneath the tables when the door opens. Jose comes in, looking confused.

“How did you get in here?”

“Good morning to you too, Jose,” Nicky says, not bothering to look up from the sweeping. He pointedly ignores the question, too. “Hey, look, someone left a toy.”

“What?”

Nicky bends down to reach under the table. He holds the small plastic dinosaur out to Jose. “For you,” he says.

“Thanks,” Jose says, reaching for the figurine. Nicky smiles at him, and Jose smiles back, not bringing up the fact that Nicky ignored his question or the fact that Nicky _ran away_ from him after work the other day. He just takes the dinosaur and places it on top of the register. Then Jose goes and grabs another broom, helping Nicky with the rest of the store as if everything was totally normal. And maybe for him, it is. 

“What are you going to name it?” Nicky asks when they’ve finished, trying to play along, keep things light. Jose doesn’t need to know that he’s screaming internally at their close proximity.

Jose looks up from where he was dumping out the dustpan. “Jose Jr.”

Nicky cracks up. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s a nice name.”

Jose smiles. “Thanks.”

Nicky doesn’t know what else to say, and apparently Jose doesn’t either. Nicky means to apologize for leaving Jose all alone the other day, but it never feels like the right time, and eventually they’re just too busy with the morning rush to have time to talk about anything but coffee.

Finally, the chaos dies down enough for them to breathe, and Nicky thinks he’s just going to have to get it over with. Of course, that’s when the door opens, and an unfortunately familiar face appears. It’s like he has some sort of sixth sense for the ideal time to visit. Nicky hates him so much.

Nicky turns around, expecting to switch places with Jose as usual, but Jose is elbow-deep cleaning the ice maker. He shoots Nicky a helpless look, and Nicky swears under his breath. This is his bad karma coming to get him.

When he turns back to Maluma, though, his customer-service smile is firmly in place, if a little pained around the edges. “Good morning. Double Chocolatey Chip, right?”

He mentally kicks himself for remembering, especially when Maluma drags his eyes from Jose’s ass to Nicky’s face. “You remembered.”

“No,” Nicky says, more defensively than he’d hoped. Maluma raises an eyebrow. Whatever. He’s told more outrageous lies. “I mean, yes. But only because there aren’t a lot of adult men who come in here to order the frappés.”

“Well. Those other men are missing out, then, aren’t they?”

Who does this guy think he is? The way Maluma is staring at him lets Nicky know he’s not only referring to the drink. On any other day, in any other lifetime, Nicky would be head-over-heels in a heartbeat. But it’s not another day. It’s today. And he’s ready to be rid of Hot Customer.

“Frappé, then?” Nicky turns around halfway again. “Jose―”

“No, no,” Maluma interrupts. “Remember what I said last time, about trying something new? A man can’t live on sugar alone. Can you recommend me something?”

“Well, our seasonal special is―” Nicky starts, voice flat as he can make it.

Maluma cuts him off again, his tone never wavering, not even a hint of annoyance. “No, I don’t need to hear about your seasonal specials. I want _you_ to recommend me something.”

It’s a testament to just how insanely good-looking and charismatic Hot Customer is, because even as much as Nicky hates him, his stomach _still_ flutters ever so slightly. Maybe it’s his accent or maybe the slightly-too-long pause after “you” was intentional, but either way, Nicky forgets to breathe for a second. He suddenly has a little ― a _little_ ― sympathy for Jose’s erratic behavior the past few mornings. His defenses are lowered staring point-blank at mister paisa man.

“Um.” Nicky swallows hard, trying to remember how words work. “I usually just drink regular drip. But you might try the americano.”

“Oh. A bit more, ah… ordinary than I usually like. But I suppose I could give it a try. I’m sure you know how to make it right, Boston?”

Behind Nicky, Jose makes a tiny choked sound. _Who’s jealous now?_ Nicky thinks, and suddenly he gets an idea. Nicky smiles slightly as he rings up Maluma’s new order and gives him the total.

“And how much extra for that smile?” Maluma asks, and Jose squeaks again.

“For you?” Nicky says, much more interested in Jose’s reaction than Maluma’s. “No charge.”

Maluma laughs, Jose devolves into a full-on coughing fit, and Nicky isn’t sure which is more satisfying. He hands Maluma his change, all of which ― as usual ― lands directly into the tip jar. The one good thing about Hot Customer’s daily visits, Nicky supposes. 

Jose is still wrestling with the ice maker, so Nicky makes Maluma’s drink. For a different hot customer, he might make it extra large, but for capital-H capital-C Hot Customer, no way in hell.

“You know,” Jose says once Maluma leaves with his drink and wink, “I didn’t know you had it in you, _Boston_.”

Nicky turns around to face him fully now. “What? I can flirt,” he says, as innocently as he can manage.

“I’ll say. ‘For you, no charge,’” he echoes in a surprisingly accurate impression of Nicky. “Maybe I should let you handle him every morning. He seems to like you.” Nicky detects a hint of disappointment in Jose’s voice.

“Yeah, right. I saw him checking out that _paisa_ ass when he walked in.”

Jose turns pink and mumbles something Nicky doesn’t quite catch. “What was that?” Nicky asks. Jose won’t meet his eye. He mumbles again.

“What?” Nicky’s genuinely curious now.

Jose frowns at him. “Shut up, Nick,” he says mildly.

Normally, Nicky would laugh it off, chalk it up to Jose being Jose and make a joke to that effect. But he’s still feeling moody, made all the worse by Hot Customer interrupting his opportunity to apologize, and then by Hot Customer being Hot Customer. And then there’s the way that Jose has gone back to normal after lighting up like a Christmas tree for stupid, insufferable, not even that hot Hot Customer. Not that Nicky was expecting Jose to flirt with _him_ the same way, but his total personality shift is still a cold reminder.

“I was just fucking joking, okay? No need to get pissy about it.”

Jose’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot up. “I was just joking, too,” he says quietly.

“Sure,” Nicky mutters, rolling his eyes. He moves to leave the counter, but Jose blocks him. Nicky is hyper-aware of how close they are. Jose doesn’t seem to realize. He’s still staring at Nicky like a sad, lost puppy. Nicky can’t take it. He glances desperately around the café, but there’s no one to save him. The whole room is empty, and “Someone Like You” plays oppressively loudly, Adele’s deep voice roaring in his ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Nicky can barely hear Jose. Nicky can barely think.

Jose sighs, and Nicky _knows_ he’s being an asshole. But can’t help himself.

“Sorry,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean it. I mean, I did mean it. I was joking. But I'm sorry. I’ll, uh, be right back.” He practically yells the last part, brushing quickly past Jose, careful not to actually touch him. He resists looking back, but he imagines how Jose looks, standing there even more sad and confused.

Nicky goes and hides in the stockroom closet, a behavior that’s becoming alarmingly habitual. He sinks down to the floor, not caring how gross it is. He slumps with his back to the shelves, head leaning against a stack of oat milk boxes.

_This is pathetic,_ he tells himself. He is a grown adult hiding in the broom closet because he can’t deal with his feelings. He bangs his head against the oat milk. The box cushions the blow, and it’s not very satisfying. He does it a few more times, each hit successively harder until the box explodes, and he’s covered in Nordic dairy alternative.

Then there’s a knock on the door because of course there is. It opens slowly; Jose didn’t wait for a response. Nicky looks at Jose looking at him. Jose takes in the situation slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asks. It must be a rhetorical question.

“Yeah,” Nicky says, tone void of all inflection. “All good in the hood.”

Jose gives him another once over, then sticks out his hand. Nicky stares at it.

“Come on,” Jose says, and he’s smiling. Tentatively, but still.

Nicky smiles back at him, pushing aside all his stupid feelings and grabs his hand, letting Jose help him up. 

“Wow,” Jose says, eyeing the exploded oat milk box. “You’re pretty strong.”

Nicky’s smile turns sheepish. “I think the Swedes use compostable packaging. Not plastic.”

“Still. You smashed it. That’s impressive,” Jose says, surveying the mess. He turns to eye Nicky again. “You’re soaking wet. You need to get out of those clothes.”

Nicky feels his jaw start to drop, and he furiously bites down to prevent that from happening. He catches his tongue in the process. Jose looks at his pained face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nicky says quickly.

Jose looks confused, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “I have an extra apron,” he says, not acknowledging the fact that he effectively just told Nicky to get naked. Nicky wonders if it was intentional. It had to have been. That’s not a normal thing said among friends, is it?

“Nick? Nicky?” Jose says, leaning in to wave a hand in Nicky’s face. “You listening? Go grab a t-shirt from the shelf. I won’t tell Rebeca. Go change, and I’ll handle this. Otherwise you’re going to smell. Make sure you get it out of your hair.”

Jose pushes him out the door. Nicky walks towards the bathroom in a trance, wondering if he imagined the whole thing. He spends the rest of the shift staring at Jose incredulously every time his back is turned.

Finally, they close up the store and start on their commute home in silence. They reach 6th Ave, where Jose always leaves Nicky for the PATH station. Jose turns to him, and Nicky means to apologize then and there, but Jose just says goodbye with a quick pat on the back before hurrying off. Nicky watches his back as he leaves, staring after him until long after he’s gone, almost forgetting to turn towards the metro. The crowd hurries past him as he stands still, and it’s only when a little old lady bumps him with her cane that he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing.


	5. Chapter 5

Nicky is very, very late. He could say his alarm didn’t go off, but it did. He could blame the train, but ― for once ― there were no delays. He just hopes Rebeca doesn’t ask too many questions; he doesn’t know how to explain that it took him nearly an hour to make the four-block trip from the station. Or how to explain that she’s lucky he came in at all.

As soon as he walks in, though, Rebeca drags him into her office. While she chews him out for delaying opening, all Nicky can think is that he made the wrong decision. One of the ninety-seven times he stopped and turned around on the way here, he should’ve just kept going.

This job is barely worth it at the best of times, but today it’s unbearable. How is Nicky supposed to work alongside Jose all day after dreaming about him all night?

Finally, Rebeca lets him go. He hasn’t absorbed a word of her lecture, but he gets the point ― don’t be late again. Right. Nicky salutes and hurries out of the office, joining Jose behind the counter.

“You okay, man?” Jose asks.

“Yeah, fine,” Nicky says. “Slow start this morning. Making up for yesterday, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I would’ve covered for you.”

Oh. Why _didn’t_ he text Jose? Probably because in his sleep-deprived half-dreaming state, he would’ve said something he’d be regretting right now. Not that he can say that out loud.

“Uh,” Nicky stammers. “My phone died.”

Jose quirks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press the issue. Thank God. Nicky just has to remember not to get his phone out at all during this entire shift. Which means he has to somehow make it to lunch without Sech’s support.

“Is Karol’s charger still around here somewhere?”

Jose snorts. “No. Rebeca got it; I meant to tell you yesterday. You’re stuck with me.”

“Damn.”

“Ouch.”

Nicky didn’t really mean for the “damn” to come out like that, but it’s too late to take it back now. It’s probably best to just stay quiet, anyway. He doesn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Two days ago, they would’ve been able to laugh it off, but now he’s not so sure.

He tries a different tactic. “Did she get your fidget spinner too, then?”

“Yeah,” Jose says.

“I guess that means you’re stuck with me, too.”

Jose smiles slightly, and Nicky relaxes. Maybe the ice isn’t as thin as he thought.

He’s offered a brief reprieve when a customer wanders in, barely looking up from his phone for long enough to avoid getting hit by the door as someone else leaves. Jose and Nicky watch him make his way up to the counter. If things were normal, they might take bets on how long it would take for him to trip over something.

Jose steps up to the register. “Can I help you?”

No answer. The guy doesn’t even glance up.

Jose clears his throat. “Excuse me. What can we get started for you?”

Still nothing.

“Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”

“Maybe a pastry?” Nicky suggests. “A scone, or something?”

“Whiskey? Tequila?”

The customer looks up at that. “What?”

“Nothing. What can we get for you?” Jose points up at the menu board over his head.

“Uh.” He studies the board for a moment, then looks back at his phone. “Just a… lemon tea.”

“What size?”

Nothing.

“He’s not going to answer,” Nicky says.

“Make it a medium, I guess. He’ll complain if it’s wrong,” Jose says. To the customer, he says, “That’ll be two-fifty. Name?”

Tapping his phone against the payment reader ― which Nicky didn’t know until that very moment actually worked ― the customer blinks at Jose. “Um, Benito.”

“Lemon tea for Benito, got it,” Jose says. He probably didn’t need to ask for his name when Nicky is standing right there and there’s no one else in line, but the man’s delayed reactions are kind of amusing, and at least he’s a distraction from whatever the hell was about to happen before he walked in. Jose hands Nicky the cup.

The shop is silent except for the music, the trickle of water into the cup, and the light tapping of Benito’s thumbs as he continues texting. Nicky doesn’t look at Jose. He’ll have to say something eventually, but for now, it’s nice to just be next to him, not speaking.

Because it’s a break from the shop’s usual chaos. No other reason.

It takes two tries for Nicky to hand Benito the finished drink. When he finally does take it, he stares at it for a moment, mumbles a thanks while glancing at Jose Jr. and not either of the people involved in making his drink, and wanders out just as absentmindedly as he came in.

“He didn’t tip,” Jose says.

“I don’t think he even realized we were here,” Nicky replies.

“A walk-in vending machine?”

“I was thinking robot baristas, but I like yours better.”

Jose laughs, and Nicky can’t even kid himself into thinking he only likes it because it’s a sign that things are back to normal. He likes Jose’s laugh. Maybe he can make him do it again.

“Do you think he’s a regular at another shop?”

“What do you mean?”

Nicky points up. “He looked so confused when he saw the menu. Like he was expecting something else. A block from here, some other café is probably wondering where their distracted regular is.”

“Why ―” Understanding dawns on Jose’s face. “Oh, he made a wrong turn because he wasn’t looking.”

“Got it.”

“They’re probably worried about him. It can’t be safe, walking around the city with your head down like that.” Jose mimes texting, narrowly avoiding a real collision with the ice machine, and it’s Nicky’s turn to laugh.

“I’d be worried about…” Nicky starts, then cuts himself off. He suddenly realizes that he’s talked himself into a corner. The last ― well, maybe second-to-last ― thing he wants to talk about right now is their own regular.

“What?”

“...Him,” Nicky finishes lamely. “So where are you going to hide your fidget spinner now?”

Jose doesn’t take the bait. “You’d be worried about that guy? He didn’t even compliment your smile.” His tone is light, but it sounds forced.

“I don’t think he saw my smile,” Nicky says.

“No. If he had, he might’ve tipped us.”

Nicky opens his mouth, but no words come out. He has no idea how to respond. Was that a compliment? Or is Jose making fun of him again? Sech was right ― after a year of working so closely with Jose, Nicky should be able to read him better.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Nicky blurts. It’s the closest thing to personal information he’s offered Jose in days, if not longer. They hardly even acknowledge that they have lives outside of work; it’s not some kind of _unspoken agreement_ or anything, it’s just the way things are.

Though maybe if they talked more, Nicky wouldn’t be having this ― is it a crisis? ― now.

“Me neither,” Jose says.

Nicky sighs. He pauses before saying, “Hey. I’m sorry about the other day. For leaving you alone. I had to leave. Like, quickly.”

“It’s fine,” Jose says. “I figured you had an emergency. No one robbed me on the way to the station, so don’t worry about it.”

Nicky forces himself to laugh, trying to cover up the fact that he’s lying through his teeth. Well, no, it’s not 100% a lie, technically. He _did_ have to leave quickly. He’s finding it increasingly difficult to be around Jose without professional boundaries to keep himself in line. It’s embarrassing, but it’s true. It’s like he’s going through puberty again, all angry and hormonal for no good reason, but this time he’s cognizant of what’s going on. Not that that makes it any better.

“It won’t happen again,” Nicky says. He immediately regrets saying it, but Jose smiles, and the regret fades a little bit.

“Good. I didn’t get robbed this time, but you never know what might happen to me without you to protect —”

Before he can finish the thought, Rebeca appears, looking more stressed than normal. Nicky and Jose both freeze. They replay the last few moments in their heads; they haven’t said anything inappropriate, and they’re not wrestling. There’s no reason Rebeca should be out of her lair right now.

“What’s up?” Nicky asks, casual.

“I finally booked a band,” Rebeca says.

Nicky glances at Jose, but he looks just as lost as Nicky feels. “Um,” Nicky says.

“Congratulations?” Jose offers.

Rebeca sighs and rubs her eyes. “For live music night,” she says, as if that answers any of their questions. She looks from Nicky to Jose and back. “I did tell you about live music night.”

It’s not a question, but Jose answers anyway. “I don’t think so.” Nicky shakes his head.

“I know I told you, Nick. This morning.”

Oh. Maybe, in hindsight, he should’ve absorbed at least a few words of Rebeca’s lecture. He cautiously turns his head-shake into a nod. Live music night, booked a band ― Nicky’s not stupid. He can pretend to know what she’s talking about.

“Who’s the band?” Jose asks.

“Some Aussie kids looking for their ‘big break.’ They call themselves… Something with ‘Socks,’ I think. I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. But they’ll for sure be here _this Friday_.” She hits the last words hard, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Nicky. 

“This Friday, right, right,” Nicky echoes. “And you need us to…?”

“Promote it,” Rebeca says.

“We can do that,” Jose says.

“You’re about to get a chance to prove it,” Rebeca says, indicating a young blond man tying up his two large dogs just outside the café’s entrance.

Jose gasps. Actually _gasps_ , earning raised eyebrows from both Nicky and Rebeca. Before the man has even finished with the first leash, Jose is starting a fresh pot of coffee. If this isn’t the same young blonde man who came in a couple of months ago, Jose is about to be very embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he’s right. He can’t forget that face ― or that order.

“What the he―” Nicky starts, then remembers where he is and who’s standing right next to him. “― _heck_ are you doing?” 

Jose doesn’t answer. Outside, the man is still fighting with his dog’s tangled leash. Jose watches the coffee like it might burst into flames if he looks away, and Nicky watches Jose. Rebeca just shakes her head at them both.

The man opens the door just as the coffee finishes brewing. Nicky shoots him a customer-service grin, and he offers a close-lipped smile in return.

“What can I get for you?”

“Looks like he’s got it.” The man tilts his head toward Jose.

Jose is so focused on pouring the perfect cup of coffee that he doesn’t even seem to notice Nicky, Rebeca, and the customer staring at him. He leaves just enough room in the cup for a generous pour of milk or cream, but instead of going for either, he pumps a single shot of blueberry flavoring into the drink. Nicky almost gasps, too, but the man just smiles.

“You remembered,” he says.

“How could I forget?”

Jose lingers nearly as long with Blueberry Coffee Guy as he does with Hot Customer, even with Rebeca watching. Nicky shifts from foot to foot, suddenly anxious to get this normal-looking man and his unearthly drink out of the building. Rebeca clears her throat, and Nicky remembers why she’s standing there in the first place.

“Hey, are you into music?”

Blueberry Coffee Guy blinks. “Am I… Yeah, I’m into music.”

“Great! What a coincidence. We’re, I mean, the café is having our first live music night this weekend. Friday.” Given the way Jose and the customer are still stealing sideways glances at each other while listening to him, Nicky doesn’t want to continue the thought. But the momentum is too strong, and he finishes, “You should come.”

“Who’s the band?”

“Uh…” Nicky looks at Rebeca.

Jose chimes in instead. “You probably haven’t heard of them,” he says, managing to sound conspiratorial instead of condescending. “They’re _up-and-coming_. They’re from Austria.”

“Australia,” Nicky corrects.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Australia. Anyway. Nicky’s right. You should come.”

“Sounds cool. Friday, you said?” The question is directed at Jose, even though Nicky is the one who said Friday. Nicky tries not to care.

“Yeah, Friday,” Jose says. “Here, I can write down the details for you. It’s really exclusive, actually. We don’t have flyers or anything.”

Nicky grits his teeth as Jose scribbles on the back of the customer’s receipt. Rebeca looks almost _impressed_ , like she didn’t think they were actually capable of promoting this event. As if selling things isn’t literally their job.

Jose tries not to make it too obvious that he’s adding his own name and phone number to the note, but Blueberry Coffee Guy reads the info as soon as Jose hands it to him. “Jose,” he says, then hums. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, uh…”

“Sky,” the customer finishes for him.

“Sky,” Jose and Nicky say together.

“See you Friday.”

And then, without another word, Sky and his dogs and his damn blueberry coffee are gone. Rebeca nods. “Not bad,” she says, “but I think we need flyers. Our customers don’t need your phone number, Jose.”

Nicky snorts, and Jose flushes. So much for subtle. “It was the café’s number,” he says.

“Sure. Keep pushing the event. We really need a good turnout if we want to make this work, and I’m relying on you two.” She points at Nicky. “And no swearing.”

“I didn’t even ―” 

But she’s already disappeared into her office, probably to make some flyers that don’t have Jose’s number printed on them. When Nicky turns back around, Jose is wiping up a drop of blueberry flavoring from the counter.

“Cool guy,” Jose says.

“Yeah, sure. Black coffee with blueberry? Who the ― who orders that?”

“Sky, apparently.”

“Yeah, somebody called ‘Sky’ would. Doesn’t anyone in this city go by their actual name?”

Jose pauses for a beat before responding. “I don’t know, _Nicky_. Do they?”

“Apparently not, _Jose_ , they just―” Nicky hears himself halfway through the sentence. He scoffs and grabs a rag, going back over the same spot Jose dripped blueberry flavor on, even though it’s not dirty anymore. “You know what I mean. At least I use a normal nickname.”

Jose is laughing too hard to argue.

Nicky puts down the rag and turns his full attention on Jose. “Did you really give him your number?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sort of smiling. “Why?”

“No reason,” Nicky says, possibly too quickly. “Look at you. Mister Don Juan.” The joke, if he can even call it that, comes out badly, unconvincingly.

Jose looks at him, not laughing anymore. “Uh,” he says. “What?”

“You know,” Nicky mutters, picking up the rag again, looking for a distraction. “First Hot Customer. Now ‘Sky.’” He makes air quotes around Sky’s name.

Jose is outright staring now. “It’s not really like that.”

“So what is it like?” Nicky’s voice sounds overly-aggressive even to his own ears.

Jose declines to answer. “You okay?” he asks instead.

Nicky sighs. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. I’m just, uh, tired.”

“Okay.” Jose doesn’t push the issue. They exist in silence for a moment before Nicky sighs again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine.”

“No, for the other day, too. I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”

“Really, Nick, it’s fine.”

Nicky sighs and resumes wiping down the already-clean countertop. He really needs to stop apologizing. It doesn’t seem to be making anything better.

Still, he almost makes a comment about Sky walking Jose to the station tonight. Something about those two big dogs, something about being safe. Something about discussing obscure music that Nicky’s probably never heard of.

He decides against it.

Probably _because_ he decides against it, they pass the rest of their shift in an uneasy peace. As long as they’re both working ― or at least pretending to work, for the benefit of Rebeca’s cameras ― Nicky doesn’t have to think about Sky or Hot Customer or anyone else Jose may have given his number to, _like that_ or not.

And they do walk to their stations together that night. They walk in silence. Nicky doesn’t trust himself not to say something else wrong. He really is tired.

His sleepless night is catching up to him. He doesn’t fall asleep on the train. He knows better than that, but he does drift off a little bit. Just a little. Just enough that when he blinks again, he’s more than a little bit surprised that Jose isn’t beside him, bobbing his head to the beat of the same song, smiling slightly, gently teasing Nicky for drifting off.

But no, of course he’s alone as always.

That night, he sleeps, and doesn’t dream at all.


	6. Chapter 6

“You’ve been acting weird,” Julián says.

How he can be quieter and yet somehow _more_ annoying than his brother is beyond Nicky. Nicky rolls his eyes and continues pretending that he’s gone deaf, ignoring the comment.

Julián doesn’t back down. “I can help you, you know.”

Nicky refuses to take the bait. He already knows exactly where this is leading ― even if Manuel hadn’t told him all about what Julián’s been up to, Nicky recognizes that tone. He resists the urge to say Julián’s next line along with him.

“I’m a psych major.”

“I don’t need your help, Julián,” Nicky sighs, giving up the act.

“Sure you do,” Julián insists. “A sudden change in demeanor can be a sign of something really wrong. You’ve hardly said a word to me since we got here, and Manuel said you snapped at him like thirty times during your last shift together. Something’s different.”

“Right. Because I’m usually such a fucking ray of sunshine.”

“Don’t swear, Nick,” Rebeca calls from the back room.

“Sorry,” Nicky calls back. The café is deserted, so it’s not like it really matters, but he might as well keep her happy. To Julián, he says, “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s wrong with me, doc?”

Julián lights up instantly, either not picking up Nicky’s sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “Well. I can’t officially diagnose you with anything since I’m not licensed yet. But I can tell you that besides being quiet, you’ve been distracted, like you’re in your head a lot. And you keep running away on your breaks to talk to your friend.”

“How do you know that’s where I’m going?”

“It’s obvious,” Julián says, crossing his arms. “Besides, where else are you going to go?”

“Whatever,” Nicky scoffs.

“ _Anyway_ , my point. You obviously have something on your mind. And given the way you reacted when ‘We Belong Together’ came on the radio just now―”

“Mariah is a classic,” Nicky starts, but Julián ignores him and presses on.

“I’m going to say it has something to do with your love life. Did you just break up with somebody?”

It takes Nicky a second to process the question. Break up? He hasn’t dated anyone in ― well, he’d rather not think about that. Why would Julián think…? “What, no. What?”

Julián shrugs. “Not a breakup. Okay. That means… you have a crush.”

“ _What_.”

“Yeah, that has to be it. Who is it?”

 _Jose_ , Nicky’s brain auto-fills, but he immediately shakes the thought off. Now is not the time. He turns away from Julián and starts straightening the stack of cups for the third time. “No one. I’m not in middle school. I don’t have a crush.”

“Defensiveness. Typical. You’re just proving my point.”

“I am not ―”

Before Nicky can protest further, the bell above the door chimes, and of-fucking-course it’s Hot Customer. At least he’s allowed to swear inside his own head. Nicky doubts he has the energy to come up with his usual snappy comebacks today, and it’s no fun to return the flirting when Jose isn’t here to see it.

He turns around to let Julián take the register, but as soon as he sees the look on Julián’s face, he changes his mind. If this were a cartoon, there would be a lightbulb over the kid’s head.

“No,” Nicky says immediately. Julián raises his eyebrows.

“Am I interrupting something?” Maluma asks.

“No,” Nicky repeats. “What’ll it be today?”

Maluma hums and studies the menu board ― as if he doesn’t have it memorized by now. He drums his fingers on the counter while he reads. For some reason, standing there, looking at that hand, Nicky wonders whether Jose and Maluma have ever seen each other outside of work.

Not that it matters. Nicky doesn’t care whether they see each other. Definitely doesn’t care whether that hand has ―

“You good, Boston?” Maluma says, and Nicky realizes that there’s a very good chance he just missed his order completely.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Nicky forces a small laugh. “Americano today?”

“Black eye,” Julián whispers. Maluma smirks.

Literal black eye, both of them, blah blah. It’s too easy, so Nicky lets it go. Instead, he punches in the code and tries not to think about Maluma’s hand, even if it’s right now this second reaching toward him holding a ten-dollar bill. Nicky hasn’t even said the total yet.

At least Julián, unlike Manuel, more-or-less knows how to make coffee. By the time Nicky manages to count out Hot Customer’s change, the black eye is ready, and Nicky prays that Maluma will take it and go on his way.

As if he’s ever been that lucky.

Maluma leans in ― not an obscene amount, but just enough to speak low, as if he’s telling Nicky a secret. “You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a _very_ good listener.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Nicky replies at a normal volume. “But I’m good. I’ve got Dr. Julián.”

Julián offers a tiny wave, but Maluma doesn’t even glance in his direction. He’s still fixated on Nicky. “Well, if you ever decide that Dr. Jo― _Julián_ isn’t enough for you, Dr. Maluma is always open for business.”

Nicky doesn’t get the chance to return fire; just then, another customer enters the shop. Tiny, big hair, big smile: he doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers her order. Nicky gestures for Maluma to step aside, then turns to the newcomer.

“Soy caramel frappé, extra whip, right?” he says.

“Mocha,” she corrects, “but close. Hey, Juancho, how’s it going?”

“Better now that I have coffee in my hand,” he laughs. Nicky hopes his shock doesn’t show too clearly on his face; when he’s not trying to flirt, Hot Customer almost sounds like a normal human being. And apparently he also has a normal name. Nicky files that one away for reasons he’s not quite certain of yet.

Nicky gives the customer her total and repeats the order again for Julián. Thank God there’s no one else in line, because he still cannot for the life of him remember her name. As she pays, she continues chatting with Maluma. _Juan_. Fascinating.

Bless her, whatever _her_ name is, for distracting him.

But then her frappé is finished, and she takes it and leaves, and Maluma is still standing there. “Can we help you with something else?” Julián asks.

“No, no,” Maluma says, not sounding entirely convincing. 

The words are out of Nicky’s mouth before he can stop them. “You know her?”

“I know _everybody_ ,” Maluma says. Nicky’s pretty sure he meant to be… seductive, or something, but instead it comes off as vaguely threatening. Maluma hears it, too; he tries again. “I mean―”

Nicky cuts him off. “I’m sure you’re very popular,” he says, “but if you’ll excuse us, we have a big event in a couple of days, and we’re supposed to be preparing.”

“Really? What kind of event?”

Damn it.

“You didn’t see the flyers?” Julián asks.

 _Jose didn’t tell you?_ Nicky thinks, but doesn’t say. Maybe they _don’t_ see each other outside the café.

“Oh, this concert, right? I think I, ah… heard about it.” Maluma glances at Nicky.

So on top of being blisteringly hot and an aggressively good tipper, he can read minds, too? That might complicate things. Nicky should stop thinking about Maluma’s hands. And Jose’s hands. And… 

“Your manager mentioned it the last time I was here,” he continues. “I might stop by. You’ll be there, Boston?”

“Yep,” Nicky says.

“Doc?”

It takes Julián a second to realize that he’s being addressed, but when he does realize it, he blinks and shakes his head. “No. I have final exams next week.”

“Final exams,” Maluma echoes carefully, as if it’s just now dawning on him exactly how young Nicky’s coworkers are. He turns back to Nicky. “Well, if you two will be there, I’ll be there. Nicky and Jose ― the dream team.”

And then he winks and leaves. Nicky can’t even be thankful he’s gone; his brain is still stuck, stuttering over “Nicky and Jose.” The dream team, indeed.

Julián clears his throat. “Was that the guy?”

“No,” Nicky says, snapping out of his trance. Then, again, “No. Come on. We need to wipe down these tables.”

Julián looks unimpressed. “You sure about that?”

“Be quiet, Julián,” Nicky says.

Julián opens his mouth again, but Nicky’s had it with his teenage psychologist. He tosses his cleaning rag at Julían, who makes a distressed noise when it hits him squarely in the face.


	7. Chapter 7

As the last of the morning rush clears out, Nicky glances at the clock on the register. “Jose,” he says.

“What.”

“We have ten seconds.”

“...What?”

Nicky counts down. “Four… three… two… one…”

And of course, right on cue, the bell on the door rings, and Maluma walks in. “Oh,” Jose says. “He really is predictable, isn’t he?”

“You take him,” Nicky says, stepping away from the register. He is _not_ in the mood to deal with Hot Customer Bullshit this morning.

“Gladly,” Jose replies, and. Well. Maybe that’s not much better. It’s actually considerably worse.

Nicky tries not to eavesdrop, but it’s impossible. He’s seen Jose flirt more since Maluma started coming in than he has in the whole time they’ve worked together before, and it’s actually quite the sight. He didn’t think of Jose as particularly smooth, but he holds his own against Maluma, and that’s no small feat. Nicky wonders if it’s just Maluma who brings out that side of Jose. Nicky wonders what other hidden depths Jose might be keeping from him, but that starts his mind down a path he probably shouldn’t explore at work, so he starts making Maluma’s drink instead, since Jose is still busy trying to see how many innuendos he can fit into a seemingly-innocent conversation.

He’s over being impressed now. He just wants it to end. How either of them can say these things with a straight face is a mystery. Nicky is cringing with every word, praying for something, _anything_ to end the torture.

His prayers are answered in the form of the door opening again. “I’ll be right with you,” Nicky says to the new customer. He finishes Maluma’s drink quickly ― it’s an americano today ― then pushes Jose out of the way to take over the register. Maluma steps to the side as well, his eyes never leaving Jose.

“What can I get for you?” Nicky asks Distraction Customer.

The man looks up at the menu board. “Café mocha. _Bien negrito el espreso, con esos,_ how you say, _como cositas claritas._ Marshmallows!” he says. He’s not a big guy, but his high voice still catches Nicky off-guard. He glances over his shoulder at Jose, but he’s still down for the count.

“Café mocha extra dark with marshmallows, got it,” Nicky repeats back. “And a name for that?”

“Ozuna.”

Maluma cuts himself off mid-sentence and blinks at Nicky. “Really? You’re going to make fun of ‘Maluma,’ but not ‘Ozuna’?”

Nicky shrugs, and Ozuna crosses his arms. Maluma towers over him, but Ozuna looks up, gaze unwavering. “Ozuna is my actual name. Where does ‘Maluma’ come from?”

Jose, finally out from under Maluma’s spell, nudges Nicky. He doesn’t have to say a word ― they both know that it’s a _this-will-be-good_ nudge. Nicky hands him Ozuna’s cup and takes a half-step back to watch the action.

“I’d love to tell you the story,” Maluma says. “Maybe over dinner?”

Ozuna examines Maluma. He doesn’t seem entirely unimpressed; he raises an eyebrow and adjusts his still-crossed arms. “Would you, now? It’s that long a story?”

“It’s a pretty long story. But, you know, it’s really all in the telling. Even a short story can be pretty good, if you tell it right.”

Nicky doesn’t look at Jose. He _can’t_ look at Jose, otherwise they’ll both dissolve into very unprofessional giggles. Instead, he bites his tongue and waits.

Jose, for his part, takes his time making Ozuna’s order. As much as he enjoys chatting with Maluma, this is way more entertaining.

“Who said anything about short stories? Wouldn’t be worth going to dinner for a short story, would it?”

“Mm. I suppose not. Good thing the story of ‘Maluma’ is―”

Before he can finish, Ozuna turns abruptly back to Jose, who’s holding his finished drink. “Is this mine?”

“Yes,” Jose says, trying not to sound reluctant.

Ozuna takes the drink with one hand and passes Nicky a twenty with the other. “Thank you. Keep the change.” Then he takes a step toward Maluma, and for a second, it looks like he’s going to kiss him right then and there.

“So, dinner?” Maluma asks.

“You’re cute, and I’m sure you’re a very good storyteller,” Ozuna says, “but I’m married. Have a good day.” And with that, he strides out the door, sipping his drink and not sparing even a single glance over his shoulder.

Maluma stands frozen. Jose is about to reach out and touch him to make sure he’s alive ― no other reason ― when he clears his throat and takes a sip of his own coffee.

“Well,” Maluma says. “Josecito? Dinner?”

Jose considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry. Booked all weekend.”

“Boston?”

Nicky doesn’t even dignify it with a response, just a single, short laugh. Even if he wasn’t the guy’s third choice, he wouldn’t say yes at this point.

“Okay, then,” Maluma says. He looks around the café like a kid who’s lost his parents.

“Have a good day,” Nicky grins at him.

“ _Hasta mañana_ ,” Jose adds.

Maluma doesn’t leave, though. He looks around again, this time with a very different glint in his eye. Through the window, he catches the attention of a handsome man in a Hawaiian shirt walking towards the café. Jose and Nicky watch him stride over to the door, opening it with his most winning smile.

“Unbelievable,” Nicky says to Jose as they watch Maluma and Hawaiian Shirt chat in the doorway. “They’re blocking the door!”

“It’s not like anyone else is trying to come in,” Jose points out.

“Still,” Nicky splutters, “who does this guy think he is?”

No answer from Jose.

Maluma charms Hawaiian Shirt for a good four minutes before letting him buy his coffee. He finally leaves, but not before glancing back at the counter. Jose’s busy taking the order, but Nicky makes the mistake of making eye contact. Maluma winks. Nicky wonders how much more abuse his own tongue can take.

“ _Café con leche_ ,” Jose yells in his direction. Nicky makes the drink, still steaming over Hot Customer Maluma.

“ _Café con leche_ ,” he says, no heart in it. “For…” he glances down at the cup. “Ricky.”

Hawaiian Shirt Ricky grabs his drink and leaves, and Nicky takes no joy in the fact that their names rhyme.

* * *

Nothing else of interest happens the rest of the day. Rebeca shows up around four with another stack of flyers for them to distribute for live music night.

They close up the shop, and the flyers are still there. Jose reaches to grab a few at the same time as Nicky. Their hands almost brush, but Nicky pulls his hand back like he’s been burned.

“Go ‘head,” he says, not looking Jose in the eye. Jose glances at him and takes a few off the top.

“You taking the metro home today?” Jose asks, as if they ever did anything else.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna walk with me, or you gonna ghost again?”

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine. I’m really not mad, you know. You’d have to do something really serious to piss me off.”

Jose smiles, trying to reassure Nicky that everything is okay. He’s been so weird lately. Jose hopes he hasn’t done anything to offend him. He had brought up the topic to Karol the other day, but she either hadn’t heard him or didn’t care. She’d only stared blankly at him when he asked if she thought Nicky was acting strangely. Then she’d gone back to her phone, leaving a long rambling voice message about how people really don’t see what’s right in front of them and somehow that had become her problem, _y nos vemos después, chao preciosa_. Jose’s attention had caught a little at that. He’d assumed that Karol only really talked to her boyfriend.

Nicky still won’t make eye contact, but he looks like he’s smiling as he stares at his shoes. Jose glances at him, sees the way his eyes are starting to crinkle around the edges, and he nudges Nicky gently with his shoulder. Nicky does look at him then.

“Come on,” Jose says. “We can go cover up those those dumb promotional posters that keep popping up. You know, the ones by the metro.”

Nicky turns and smiles at Jose outright. He knows exactly what Jose is talking about. “You mean Karol’s boyfriend?”

“ _That’s_ her boyfriend? The magician?”

“Yeah, I’ve actually seen him performing once. He makes some weird-ass sounds when he does his tricks.” Nicky blows an obnoxious raspberry, eyes bugging out as he mimes pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

Jose cracks up. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s save Karol the embarrassment.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Nicky and Jose get there at the exact same time. Nicky loves and hates this fact in equal parts.

“After you,” Nicky says, making an elaborate sweeping gesture towards the door. Jose rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, because I have the key.”

“I also have the key.”

“But there can only be one! The one true key!”

“I made a copy, you nerd.”

“Oh!” Jose says, eyes lighting up. “I knew it! I’ll keep your secret from Rebeca, though, don’t worry.”

“You know so many of my secrets.”

Jose laughs loudly. “Sure, Nick.”

Nicky grins at Jose. He doesn’t stop smiling until Jose opens the door and they’re both inside, and Jose looks at him funny.

“You okay?” 

Nicky nods, not really trusting himself to answer. He’s not okay, but Jose doesn’t need to know that. He’s made it this far; he can keep going. 

Jose doesn’t call him out. He just starts opening the store, just like he does every day that they work together. Nothing out of the ordinary for Jose. Nicky sighs, wishing that was the case for him, too.

They finish quickly enough, encouraged by the line of customers forming just outside the door. Nicky turns the sign to “open,” leaving Jose to take over the register. He isn’t in the mood to deal with people.

Ignorance truly is bliss, Nicky thinks as he makes the drinks. Because not only is he now horribly, _horribly_ aware of his feelings, he’s aware that he can’t do anything about them. He spent last night pondering the situation, coming to the conclusion that Jose must not be interested. Because if he was, he’d make a move already. And if Jose is not interested, Nicky is absolutely not going to ruin the best working relationship he’s had in a decade because he has a... _crush_.

Nicky’s brain says that word in Julián’s voice, and Nicky contemplates sticking his head into the milkshake machine.

The morning rush gets even rushier, and Nicky thinks he’s been saved ― can’t think about being a pathetic, lovesick idiot when there’s milk to froth and scald and nearly burn because he was thinking about exactly that. 

Of course Jose, who is a proficient employee and a good person, senses Nicky’s distress. He clears out the queue and comes to help out, standing right next to Nicky in the tiny little space they work in. Has it always been so suffocating back here? Why couldn’t it have been Karol’s shift today?

They have a rhythm established. Nicky pulls espresso and pours regular drip and makes milkshakes. Jose adds foam and whipped cream and sprinkles and syrup. They’ve been doing this for so long it’s second nature. Nicky knows exactly where Jose will be, what drinks he’s finished, what he’s going to do next. Nicky hands him a cup ready for frothed milk, and without even looking, Jose grabs it from him. Their fingers brush.

Nicky is so fucked, and Jose doesn’t even seem to notice.

They get through all the orders save for one, and Nicky runs off to the broom closet. He at least has a good reason this time, though. He grabs the box of oat milk he secretly bought to replace the one he destroyed. He’d stopped at the usual corner bodega on the way in, and the owner Ramón had made fun of him for five whole minutes. But Ramón had it stocked, so who really is the sell-out in this situation, Nicky had asked him. Ramón stopped making fun of him then.

The eagle-eyed customer notices that the oat milk is not their usual brand.

“Is that non-GMO?” he asks, frowning.

“Yes,” Nicky says, not looking at the box at all.

“Are you sure?”

Nicky walks over to the counter, container in hand, and shoves it closer to the customer’s face than is strictly necessary. 

“Look,” Nicky says, pointing near the bottom of the box. “Pay-soh neh-toh. That means ‘non-GMO’ in Spanish.”

“What are those numbers below it?”

“It’s a certification number from the non-GMO certifying authorities.”

The customer shrugs. “Okay.”

Jose brings the drink he finished over to the customer. “ _No te preocupes, aquí está todo_ , how you say, _glutefrí_.” His accent is ridiculously thick on the three words he says in English. 

The customer nods, takes the drink, and leaves, and they just barely manage to hold it together until he walks out the door before they crack up.

Rebeca finds them like that, hunched over the counter, wheezing and yelling at each other in Spanglish about gluten and non-GMO and organic.

“You two,” she says, eyes darting between them. “I don’t want to know. Just don’t let the customers see you like this.”

She disappears into her office, and they giggle some more.

* * *

Suddenly the café is quiet. Too quiet.

Nicky looks around, wondering what’s going on. Everyone’s eyes are turned on a small woman who radiates the same kind of energy as skipping class to go to the beach instead. She beams at her admirers. One man’s mouth seems to have gotten permanently stuck open in an unflattering gape. Nicky thinks she could rob him blind, and at the end he’d say thank you. She glows. She shines. She… 

Walks right past all of them, behind the counter, and throws her arms around Jose. Nicky didn’t see that one coming. He glances at Rebeca, who came out of her cave as soon as she spied an intruder behind the counter, but she doesn’t say anything to her about being in a very employees-only area of the store.

“ _Meu coração!_ ”

The accent is too much. Never has Nicky heard a head cold sound so unbelievably enticing. He’s ready to risk it all, Jose be damned. But then Jose starts talking, and Nicky reconsiders. Although he still really hates him in that moment for interrupting whatever else she might have been inclined to say.

“Anitta! I didn’t know you were in town.”

Nicky turns to him. “Who is this?” He doesn’t care how rude he sounds. He demands answers.

Anitta sizes him up quickly, giving him a polite but disinterested smile.

“This is Anitta. We’ve been best friends since we were three. Anitta, this is my coworker, Nicky.”

“Pleasure,” Anitta says. She even sounds like she means it. Nicky doesn’t get a chance to respond before Jose talks over him.

“And this is my boss, Rebeca.”

“Great to meet you, Rebeca.” Anitta smiles warmly at Rebeca. Rebeca, much to Nicky’s disbelief, _hugs her_. In all the time Nicky’s known Rebeca, he’s seen her hug a grand total of two people, and both of them were related to her by blood.

“Great to meet you too!”

Nicky has no idea what’s going anymore.

“Would you mind if I stole Jose away from work? I have a minor emergency that needs his brand of genius to solve.”

“Well, we’re pretty much through the morning rush,” Rebeca says, sounding suspiciously cheery. “I’m sure we can be flexible with breaks today, right, Nicky?”

“Okay,” Nicky says, more out of confusion than actual agreement.

“Great,” Anitta says. “I’ll have him back on time.” She leaves with another devastating smile, and all Nicky and Rebeca are left staring in the wake.

* * *

“So what’s the emergency?” Jose asks once they’re seated at the smoothie shop a few doors down, drinks in hand.

“I need to get divorced.”

“I thought you were already divorced?” Jose slurps his blueberry açai creation. It needs more açai. The blueberry is dominating the flavor palate.

“Not officially,” Anitta sighs, sipping daintily at her green juice. She manages to get the last drops without any slurping. Jose is impressed. “Things were so ugly when Thiago and I separated that I just didn’t want to deal with all that. So I never finished filing all the legal whatever.”

“Okay, and?”

“I need someone to serve him the papers. Renan won’t do it because he says he doesn’t want to get involved.” Anitta scoffs.

“And you think I do?”

“Please.” Anitta gives him big puppy eyes, and Jose almost gives in then and there.

“Why can’t your lawyer do it?”

“I am my lawyer,” Anitta says. “I did it myself because fuck Thiago and his fancy-ass lawyer trying to fuck me over. I don’t need to pay someone to get what I want.” She crushes her empty cup with one hand.

Jose leans over the table to pry the crumpled plastic gently away from her. He takes her hands in his. “It’s okay,” he says softly, trying to calm her down. Possibly for his own safety. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it next week. He still lives in the same place?”

“Yes,” Anitta says, squeezing his hands. She smiles at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They catch up for a while until Jose decides he shouldn’t test Rebeca’s sudden leniency too much longer. Anitta walks him back to work, pausing a few feet away from the door. She turns to Jose and hugs him, saying that it’s good to see him, and that she’s grateful to have a friend like him. Just before she leaves, she says in his ear, “You should make a move, you know.”

“What?” Jose asks, genuinely confused. “On who?”

“On your coworker, who else?” Anitta points through the window at Nicky, who’s definitely looking at them. “I saw you two when I first came.”

“What are you talking about? Nicky?” Jose is baffled. He has no idea where this is coming from.

“Yeah,” Anitta says. “I mean, whatever, you don’t have to. That might be weird, dating someone from work.”

She gives him another hug, leaving him flabbergasted. He almost forgets to go back in the store until Nicky comes to open the door.

“You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Jose says slowly. Nicky doesn’t look any different than half an hour ago, but Jose can’t stop staring.

“You’re bein’ real weird,” Nicky says, grabbing his arm and leading him back behind the counter.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Jose says, shaking off Nicky. He puts his apron back on. “Where’s Rebeca?” He suddenly isn’t sure if he wants to be alone with Nicky.

“She left. Said something about having to get the speakers. Seriously, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Nicky. Thanks.”

Nicky puts his hands up and backs off slowly. “Okay, whatever. I know you’re lying, but just get it together before tonight. I don’t want to get stuck doing all the work. You know Jefnier or Lunay or whatever he’s calling himself isn’t going to do much.”

“That’s not true,” Jose says, happy for a distraction. “He might film himself naked.”

“Half-naked,” Nicky quips back, and he goes to restock the sugar packets. Jose thinks okay, maybe nothing’s changed at all. But he’s not so naive as to believe that when he can’t stop looking at Nicky, whose back is turned to him, thank God.

* * *

Rebeca shows up in the afternoon, toting a whole sound system in her car. She drags it into the café by herself, refusing help from either one of them. “Just keep making the drinks,” she says, grunting. She points with her mouth at the line of people waiting. “I got this.”

Eventually, however, Nicky gets the honor of setting up the system while Rebeca takes over his barista duties. Jose isn’t sure if he’s feeling relieved or disappointed. He doesn’t get to decide, though, because there’s a loud bang, and he looks over to see Nicky leaping away from the speakers, still holding one end of a fried cable.

“Shi― oot,” he says, barely managing to keep it PG. “Rebeca!”

“I heard it!” Rebeca leaves Jose to finish the remaining drinks. Fortunately it’s only a few. They’ve gotten through the line pretty quickly. She hurries over to the amps, shooing Nicky back towards the counter. “I’ll fix it! Go help Jose.”

“With what?” Nicky asks, and Rebeca gives him an exasperated look. “Oh, right,” he says sheepishly, and trots over to make the last few coffees.

The customers taken care of, Jose and Nicky stand and watch Rebeca struggle with the broken amp, placing quiet bets on who will end up having to fix the problem.

“It was your fault,” Jose says.

“Yeah, but you’re good at stuff.”

Jose turns and looks at Nicky. “What?”

“You know, like, you’re good at fixing things.”

“That’s not true,” Jose says. “You’re the one who always fixes the milkshake machine.”

“ _Frappé_ ,” Nicky says pointedly. “I just turn it on and off.”

Jose gasps audibly. “I thought you were some secret milkshake machine genius.”

“Well, there’s another one of my secrets that you know. Now we can be geniuses together.” Nicky smiles at Jose, and it doesn’t look like the same smile he usually gives. There’s something warmer about it. Jose thinks about this for a second until Rebeca appears back over at their counter.

“Well, Nicky,” she says. “We need a new amp.”

“Ha!” Jose says quietly, and Rebeca turns an eye on him. He closes his mouth.

“I’ll get it fixed, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Rebeca says. “I need you to get it done soon, so we’re gonna close up for the afternoon. Be back here at six with a new amp.” She taps her wrist.

Nicky salutes her. “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

Jose tries not to giggle too loudly.

* * *

nicky (work)  
  
R gave me $100 for the amp. I should buy giant inflatable boxing gloves from amazon instead right?   
Is $100 even enough to buy an amp?  
just borrow the amp from sky and dont tell rebeca. im gonna kick your ass in inflatable boxing  
I’d like to see you try 😈  
And with the other $60 I can stock up on gum and get you like 40 more fidget spinners and maybe a sibling for JJ... unless you have a better idea  


Jose stares at the screen. Normally he’d know how to respond, but now he’s been thrown for a loop. He thinks about Anitta and her off-hand comment from earlier. This would be the time, right? To _make a move_. He’s not _not_ interested in Nicky. He’s just never even considered the idea. He types a message, then deletes it.

  
idk lol youre the idea guy  


Better to play it safe. He’s getting ahead of himself. This is a perfectly normal conversation between coworkers planning to defraud their boss. No need to make it weird.

  
I found pajamas that look like a suit & tie  
Can’t get them and the boxing gloves tho  
ur first suit thats cute nick you should get that one  


Should he have called him Nick? Should he have called him _cute?_ He didn’t really call him cute. It wouldn’t have been the first time, though, and it wasn’t weird then. Is it weird now? What the hell is going on here?

  
First?? wym  
...ive never seen you in a suit  
I wear suits  
Sometimes  
I look great in suits  
when have you ever worn a suit. first communion doesnt count  
Why doesn’t first communion count?  
I’ve worn a suit since then. I think  
you dont get to choose for communion. and when have u worn a suit seriously i see you all the time no suits  
Well I’m not going to wear one TO WORK  
I do stuff outside of work. Don’t you? 👀  


Jose blinks at the screen. The emoji seems unnecessary, and he’s not sure how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. He needs backup.

salomón  
  
Hey salo can you do me a favor  
What’s up? Also don’t call me that  
thats your name… anyway i need advice  
I told you, I’m going by Feid now.  
ok fred  
fred  
FEID  
autocorrect >:(  
What kind of advice?  


Jose types and retypes a couple times, thinking of how best to phrase what he’s thinking.

  
personal advice  
...You’re going to have to be more specific  
you know like personal advice about personal things  
Jose  
im going by Wain now.   
Sure, Wain. I’ll call you that because I’m a good friend.  
What is it you need help with, exactly?  
you are a good friend but dont call me wain thats ridiculous  
i need help talking to someone.. God that sounds stupid  
👀  
were texting now and idk what to say help me tell me what to say  
Okay…. What did they say to you?  
“dont u do stuff outside of work” and then that eye emoji you just used  
what does it mean  
👀 = tell me more  
So. Tell them more. DO you do stuff outside of work?  
yeah of course but why is he asking me that  
Because he… wants to talk to you…? Sounds like he’s trying to get to know you.  
but he already knows me we work together all the time  
Right. And now he’s asking about NOT work. Jose. Please tell me you’ve responded to him in all this time you’ve been talking to me.  
i can tell you that but i’d be lying  
So… you just left him on read. Reply to him!! Tell him what you do outside of work!!  


Jose sighs. Salomón can be so dramatic sometimes. But maybe he has a point.

nicky (work)  
  
yeah of course i do stuff outside of work. have you even seen me and batman in the same room 👀  
Oh shit. I knew it  
I thought this city seemed safer after you moved here  


salomón  
  
feid help feid help feid help  
??? Did you text him back?  
yeah and he says the city is safer bc of me  
...What does that mean  
Was there… context…?  
i made a batman joke and thats what he said  
No, wait, it doesn’t matter. Dude is asking about your life, then telling you that he prefers the city now that you’re in it. 🗣 HE’S FLIRTING WITH YOU. Flirt back or shut him down, but DO SOMETHING. And texting me “help help help” doesn’t count as doing something.  


And then Jose stares at his phone unhappily.

nicky (work)  
  
die a hero or live to become a villain which would u rather  
Die a hero no question  
why tho  
I mean I don’t want to be a villain  
id still be your fan  
I thought u were the superhero not me  
this towns dangerous theres room enough for two  
Your right maybe you WILL get robbed on the subway next time  
Unless i come protect you  


salomón  
  
is he inviting himself over  
Jose jesus CHRIST have you never flirted with anyone before  
[](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fa/d5/c2/fad5c25606915bc7a82746ef1ca78dd9.jpg)  


nicky (work)  
  
who says i need protecting   


A minute passes, and then two, and Nicky doesn’t respond. Jose panics. Just as he’s about to send another message ― to Nicky or Feid, he’ll decide once the messages app is open in front of him ― his phone buzzes.

  
Uh maybe I need u to protect me actually  
???  
How does Rebeca know EVERYTHING  
She called me and SPECIFICALLY said don’t use the $100 to buy random shit on amazon  
she said shit?  
Well no but she knew what I was thinking  
Send me Skys number I guess I’ll just borrow the amp and give her the money back idk  


Jose sends Sky’s number. Nicky leaves him on read, so Jose tries one more message.

  
see you at six  


* * *

Nicky does not show up at six. He shows up at five, hoping to beat out Rebeca so she won’t discover that he borrowed an amp instead of purchasing one because Sky would absolutely give up the game. He will not stop _hovering_.

“Be careful,” Sky says, and Nicky’s pretty sure that if he wasn’t busy carrying the amp, he’d be wringing his hands.

“I’m not even touching it,” Nicky says using the same voice he uses when his nephews ask to play games on his phone.

Sky rolls his eyes, but Nicky can see that he’s struggling to get it through the door. Nicky graciously holds it open, and Sky doesn’t give him so much as a thank you. “Yeah, but I’m going to leave it with you,” he says instead, in an unnecessarily accusatory tone. “And you don’t have a great track record with delicate sound equipment.”

Nicky doesn’t have a good comeback for that, so he mimics Sky, flapping his hands around and making a sour face.

“I can see you, you know,” Sky says.

“Good,” Nicky says. “I’m glad you know how ridiculous you’re being.”

Sky sets the amp down more carefully than Nicky sets down his nephews.

“I’m not —” Sky starts, but he’s cut off by the jingle of the bells on the door as it opens. Nicky whirls around, expecting Rebeca and fearing for his life, but it’s not her. It’s Jose. 

“What are you doing here so early?” Jose asks. But before Nicky can respond, Jose greets Sky with a complicated handshake ending in a bro hug.

“I’m a punctual and dedicated employee,” Nicky says, possible at a louder volume than is really necessary. “What are _you_ doing here so early?”

Jose says nothing. He is a deer caught in the headlights as the truth dawns on him: he only came early to see Nicky, but he can’t really say that out loud, can he? He’s on the verge of coming up with a reasonable excuse, but then the bells jingle again, and Rebeca appears.

“Thank God,” she says as she takes in the scene.

“You thought I wouldn’t have an amp,” Nicky says, arms crossed.

Rebeca shrugs in his general direction, then turns to Sky, who is finishing hooking up the amp. “Thanks,” she says, and she hands him a tip. Sky glances between her and the money, and then he hesitantly reaches out to take it.

“Thank you, Alejandro,” Nicky says loudly, “for your service. I’m so glad you had an amp for sale at the last minute. Whatever would we have done if we couldn’t buy your amp. You really saved us.”

Jose puts his head in his hands, but Sky, to his credit, catches on pretty quickly.

“No problem, Nick,” he says. “I’m so glad I sold my amp. To you. Forever.”

He pockets the money and then walks out the door. 

“That guy looked familiar,” Rebeca says. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because the door flies open and in come four Australians.

They’re all loaded down with instruments and gear, which strikes Nicky as odd. Even if they’re a group of kids looking for a break, Nicky expected at least a couple of roadies. He wants to offer to help, but Sky’s comment about delicate sound equipment is still ringing in his ears.

They look happy enough, anyway, and the hot blond one at the front of the pack holds out his free hand to Rebeca. “You must be Beca,” he says. “I’m Luke.”

Jose and Nicky both cringe. He’s been in the café hardly thirty seconds and this guy has already committed a mortal sin. _Strike one_ , Jose mouths, and Nicky suppresses a snort.

“Rebeca,” Rebeca corrects. She shakes his hand, then glances at the group behind him. “And you’re…”

“Five Sauce,” Luke finishes for her.

“Where’s the fifth?” Jose blurts.

All four band members look at him like he just asked about the price of llama wool on Mars. There’s a long, uncomfortable pause. Nicky wonders briefly whether something horrible happened to the fifth member or something.

Finally, the purple-haired one in the back asks, “What do you mean?”

“You said,” Jose starts. “You said Five Sauce. But there’s…”

The band is still staring at him. He trails off. He looks at Nicky, who just shrugs. Nicky doesn’t get it, either.

“Never mind,” Jose says.

Rebeca shows them where to set up, and it diffuses the tension. Nicky notices then that one of the band members is hauling an amp behind him, and he resists the urge to comment on it. 

Soon, the band is busy setting up, and Rebeca is back in her office doing God knows what. Jose and Nicky are pretending to clean again. But every time Nicky glances at Jose, Jose seems to be looking at the band. Hot jealousy rises in Nicky’s chest, but he pushes it back down.

At least until Nicky catches Jose staring at the purple-haired guitarist, who’s bent over trying to untangle a rat’s nest of cables. Nicky opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, Jose is already standing on the makeshift stage and holding out his hand.

Nicky can’t make out their words over the café’s music and his own blood rushing in his ears, but the guitarist chuckles and nods. Then he straightens up, and Nicky realizes what first struck him as odd about these men. Nicky’s not short ― not as short as Jose, anyway ― but this is a literal band of _giants_. And they’re all looking down on Jose, who is grinning and looking up at them.

The wild thought that Jose needs rescuing crosses Nicky’s mind. Batman, protection, et cetera. Or had Nicky dreamt that whole text exchange? But they’re all laughing now, the band and Jose, and Jose is reaching down to help with the mess of cables. 

_Five Sauce found their fifth_ , Nicky thinks bitterly. If this were a movie, the mug in his hand would shatter from the force of his grip. _That_ would be satisfying. Instead, it falls to the floor with a deafening clatter.

Neither the band nor Jose react to the noise. When Nicky picks up the mug, it’s not even chipped. He cleans it again, maybe a little more aggressively than necessary. If Jose could just go one day without charming everyone he meets, Nicky’s life would be a lot easier.

If time passes, Nicky is unaware of it. It feels like he’s standing there for an eternity, polishing the same mug and trying not to listen to Jose make the band laugh.

But eventually Rebeca comes back out into the cafe and surveys the scene. Jose isn’t even pretending to help the band anymore; he’s chatting and joking with them as if he’s known them for years. Rebeca clears her throat, and all five — plus Nicky, on the sidelines — turn to look at her.

“Did you borrow my employee?” she asks.

“Um,” the guitarist says.

“Strike two,” Nicky says, but no one is listening to him.

“Jefnier is supposed to be here,” Rebeca says, glancing at her phone. “Well. Jose, you can clean the bathroom. Doors open in half an hour. Will you boys be ready by then?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the band replies in unison. It’s creepy, but there’s no point in acknowledging weirdness if no one is listening. Jose disappears into the bathrooms, and Nicky picks up another mug to clean. Or maybe it’s the same one. He doesn’t even know anymore.

* * *

The event is a success. Nicky secretly had his doubts, thinking maybe just the people he bribed with free coffee — specifically Sech and his boss, Jorge — would show up. But the place is packed, and the band is only just getting started. This must be Jose’s doing, but Nicky doesn’t want to think about how many people Jose had to charm to fill the venue.

Fortunately, at least in regards to his internal conflicts, they’re so busy that Nicky doesn’t have time to dwell on his feelings. Jefnier never shows up. Rebeca fires him over the phone, but that doesn’t help their immediate situation.

“Can you call Manuel?” Jose asks. “Or the other one?”

“I tried,” Rebeca sighs. “Their mom won’t let them come out this late.”

Nicky looks at the clock. “It’s nine. On Friday.”

Rebeca shrugs and throws her hands up. “Do you want to argue with her?”

Nicky vigorously shakes his head no. Then glances up in time to see Karol walking in the door.

“KG!” he yells. “You made it.”

“Hi Nicky,” she says, and then she does not come help them out. She sits down at a table instead. Nicky takes note of her outfit. She’s dressed to impress.

“She’s here for the concert!” he says to Jose, incredulous.

Jose shrugs. “She had off tonight.”

Nicky scoffs. “Maybe we’ll get to see what her boyfriend looks like, finally. What’s his name again?”

“No clue.”

Nicky has a half-formed joke ready, but there isn’t even time for him to think of the rest. He looks at the long line of customers and groans instead.

“Jose,” he says. “It’s time for plan X. Milkshakes first!”

Jose nods solemnly, and Nicky grabs a whole stack of cups. He cranks the lever of the frappé machine so that it stays in the “open” position, and the mix starts flowing nonstop. He holds each cup under the machine for exactly nineteen seconds before passing it into Jose’s waiting hands for whipped cream and sprinkles.

Then it’s on to regular coffee. Jose sets up the mugs on the countertop, and Nicky practically runs down the line with the coffee pot, pouring as he goes.

They save the extra complicated drinks for Rebeca to handle. For someone who spends most of her days in her lair, she’s pretty quick with the cold brew and the “gluten-free” milk.

By the intermission, they’ve gotten the line down to a manageable two or three people every so often. But then of course it picks back up again when the music stops. Nicky looks around the customer whose order he’s taking and tries to convey his ire telepathically to Karol. But Karol is not paying attention. She’s kissing a certain short, soy frappé-loving customer of theirs instead. Nicky is too surprised to be angry.

Nicky stops what he’s doing to nudge Jose and gesture subtly in their direction. Jose glances up from his whipped cream canister, clearly annoyed about being interrupted, but then he looks over at them, and his eyebrows shoot up. He mouths “wow” at Nicky, and makes a funny face. Nicky giggles, and then he remembers himself.

“Sorry,” he says to the customer. “Did you say you wanted whole milk?”

“Oat milk, man,” the customer says. “Nobody drinks cow milk anymore.”

Nicky thinks about the half gallon sitting in his fridge at home and tries not to be offended.

* * *

The concert is not Nicky’s preferred genre of music, but it’s fun nonetheless, at least the brief moments he gets to enjoy between making drinks. He watches the guests more than the actual show, though, realizing that there are quite a few regulars in the crowd, and they seem to have all congregated together.

Sech, decidedly not sitting anywhere near his boss, claims a table with Jose’s friend Anitta. Nicky isn’t sure if they knew each other beforehand, but they seem to be getting along just fine. He catches them looking at him and sometimes at Jose, giggling to themselves occasionally. Well, Anitta giggles. Sech mostly stares moonily at her, then remembers to laugh after the fact. He’s not the only one, either. Several people offer to buy her coffee, but she waves them all off, smiling politely and declining.

Nicky spares a couple glances towards Karol the traitor and her date, but they’re almost always kissing each other, and eventually it just seems inappropriate to wish so much ill-will on the happy couple. Nicky rolls his eyes and begrudgingly wishes them well.

Next to them is a red-haired woman, accompanied by a certain spacey, lemon tea-drinking customer. Nicky is amazed he found his way back to their store, but then he realizes that the woman must be responsible for having gotten them in the door. Lemon Tea Drinker — try as he might, Nicky can’t remember the name he scrawled on the cup — spends the whole concert on his phone, as far as Nicky can tell. His date pokes him when it’s time to applaud, and he does so enthusiastically.

* * *

By the time the concert wraps up, Nicky is just about dead on his feet. Jose and Rebeca don’t look much better. They’re out of milkshake mix, and they’re starting to run out of oat milk. Nicky wonders if they’ll actually run out of coffee.

They manage, though, just barely — Jose fills out the last order with decaf when the customer and Rebeca have their backs turned, then hurries the customer out of the shop and locks the door behind her. He rests his head on the cool glass door to catch his breath.

“Don’t smudge the glass, Jose,” Rebeca says. “You two can close up, right?”

Jose looks at Nicky. Nicky looks at Jose. They both look at Rebeca.

She sighs. “Okay, fine. You can both have tomorrow off if you stay and clean up tonight. I’ll have Manuel and Julián cover for you.”

Nicky almost makes a comment about their mom letting them work so early, but a warning glance from Jose stops him. He shouldn’t question Rebeca’s sudden generosity. “Deal,” he says.

“Overtime?” Jose asks.

“Don’t push it,” Rebeca says.

“Okay, fine. Deal.”

She leaves with strict instructions, as if they don’t know how to clean and close the café. Despite feeling like he might keel over at any moment, Nicky wipes down the counters and stacks the chairs in record time while Jose speed-mops the floor. They don’t have to say what they’re both thinking — the quicker they finish, the sooner they can get home.

Nicky shovels the last of the disposable cups into the trash, stomping them down with his foot. They’re almost done, and he’ll be damned if he has to make more than one trash run. He collects all five trash bags and heaves them over his shoulder, hurrying outside to the dumpster in the alley.

He comes back, breathing heavily, and collapses into an empty chair. His legs feel like stone. He might never get up again.

Jose is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he left already. Nicky sits another moment, trying to convince himself that going home and showering is better than sleeping right here and now. He’s just made up his mind to get up when Jose comes out of the bathroom, spray bottle in one hand and rag in the other. He tosses the cleaning supplies in the general direction of where they’re kept and walks over to Nicky, sitting down next to him, too tired to take the extra steps to the seat across.

“I never want to see, hear, or smell anything coffee-related ever again,” Nicky says.

Jose slumps against him, resting his head on Nicky’s shoulder. Even as tired as he is, Nicky’s heartbeat picks up at the contact. Jose has his eyes closed, nodding along with Nicky’s complaints.

“We need to find new jobs,” Nicky says. “If I have to take one more complicated hipster order, I’m going to drown myself in oat milk.”

Jose nods again, and Nicky can feel the movement against his shoulder.

“This is for the birds. We gotta let the kids take over. Retire, or some shit.”

Jose says something, but Nicky can’t make out what it is.

“Hmm?” he asks.

Jose turns his head slightly so he’s not talking into Nicky’s chest anymore. “I said, Karol already beat us to it. Rebeca told me she quit.”

Nicky groans. “We’re screwed.”

“Yeah,” Jose agrees. Then he sits up properly, eyeing Nicky. He’s excited about something. “Did you see Karol today?”

Nicky glances sideways before looking back at Jose. “Yeah,” he says, hesitantly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No, me either.”

Jose looks away, and so does Nicky. When he looks back, Jose is looking at him funny. Nicky almost asks him what he wants, but he’s not sure he wants the answer to that question.

Fuck it. Yes he does.

“Jose, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, the answer is yes.” _And if you’re not_ , Nicky thinks, _this is about to be really awkward._

It takes a second for Jose to parse out all the thoughts, but once he does, he breaks into a grin. “Yes, you do want to be the one to hand Rebeca our resignations?”

“What ―”

“Nick, I’m joking. ‘Yes’ to you, too.”

They’re so close already, it’s practically impossible _not_ to kiss. They barely have to lean in at all for their lips to meet. They do lean in, and close their eyes, and let their hands touch, and it’s perfect. If they’d known it was this easy, they would’ve done it ages ago.

Nicky doesn’t even mind that Jose tastes like coffee. He may have to reconsider his earlier declaration about never tasting it again.

Jose tries not to think about Karol and Mocha Frappé. He may have to thank them if he ever sees them again.

“Nicky,” Jose murmurs, and Nicky hums in response. “Nicky, I just remembered something.”

“Hm.”

“Rebeca’s camera.”

“Oh, shit.”

They pull apart, but not that far apart. Jose looks around at the empty shop. “We should get out of here, anyway. Head home.”

Nicky’s eyes widen. “Are you―”

“No!” Jose blushes, and Nicky wants nothing more than to kiss him again. “No. I mean, home, to our homes. Our separate homes. Where we live. Separately.”

But they walk together, as they always do. As they always do, except that when Nicky accidentally-on-purpose brushes Jose’s hand with his own, Jose grabs it and holds it for the rest of the walk. 

The blocks seem shorter than usual, too, and by the time Nicky manages to think of something to say, they’ve reached their destination. Nicky doesn’t want to let go of Jose’s hand, though. They linger there for a moment, just looking at each other.

Nicky feels like he’s supposed to say something cheesy. _I can’t believe this is real_ , or maybe _I wouldn’t have made it through this evening without you_. Something about protecting each other.

Instead, he touches Jose’s cheek with his free hand and kisses him again. If their lives were a romantic movie, this would be the part where the camera spins around them in slow motion and the city melts away. Cue orchestra; fade to black.

But a tourist with a map knocks into Jose, and Jose has to steady himself with a hand on Nicky’s chest, and the moment is shattered.

As nice as Jose’s hand feels, Nicky says, “I don’t want to miss my train.”

“Me neither,” Jose says, and he mostly means it.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Sunday. Day off, remember?”

“Right. Sunday.”

They kiss once more, quick and light and careful, then go their separate ways.

_Sunday_. As his train begins to move, Nicky thinks they should’ve negotiated for overtime instead.


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday morning, Nicky drags himself out of bed. Rebeca is in his ear, begging him to come in because the babies have to visit their grandma, or something equally quaint, and they can’t make their shift. Nicky tries not to wish too much suffering on an elderly woman during his subway ride over.

His black mood is lifted, though, once he sees Jose at the counter, stacking cups and whistling along to “Say You Won't Let Go” on the radio.

Nicky doesn’t know what to say. “Good morning” feels inappropriate after yesterday, but he can’t exactly kiss Jose again, either. Rebeca is out and about, pulling chairs down from on top of the tables.

Nicky decides on, “You got bullied into coming in too, huh?”

Jose looks up and grins at him, and that’s almost as good as a good morning kiss.

“Thanks, Nick,” Rebeca says, the last chair in her hand. “I just need you for the morning. You can go after one.”

“What about Jose?” Nicky asks.

Rebeca glances between them, an expression Nicky can’t read on her face. She looks back at Nicky. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll get someone to cover it.”

“Who?” Jose asks. Nicky almost tells him to shut up and not shoot himself in the foot, but Rebeca waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You two deserve some time.”

Nicky doesn’t push his luck, just starts filling up the milkshake machine with mix.

The morning is not too bad. There’s a steady line of customers, but it never reaches the door. Nicky feels like he’s floating the whole shift. He’s running completely on autopilot; the only moments that register are when he and Jose cross paths. Jose passes him cups, and Nicky puts his fingers over Jose’s, just because he can.

It quickly becomes a part of their routine; any time they have to hand something off, they linger too long, relishing in the novelty of being able to touch. They’re practically holding hands by the time the morning crowd clears out. All his years of barista experience are finally paying off, Nicky thinks. He can do everything one-handed just fine.

If Rebeca notices, she doesn’t say anything. She just nods at them when they take their aprons off and walk towards the door. She yells “wait!” before they get outside and opens up the cash register, something Nicky wasn’t aware was possible without ringing up a transaction.

“Here,” she says, holding a handful of bills out to Jose. “Lunch is on me.”

“Thanks,” Jose says, taking the money.

“What, none for me?” Nicky asks. He’s kidding, but to his surprise, Rebeca gives him money as well.

“I really appreciate you guys,” she says. “Take tomorrow off, really. We have some new employees who should be able to handle it.”

“Thanks,” Nicky says, and he hurries Jose out the door before Rebeca can change her mind.

Nicky and Jose stop at a halal cart. They buy chicken over rice, and when Jose pulls out his money, Nicky realizes Rebeca gave him more than she gave Nicky. Jose laughs when he complains about favoritism.

They sit down outside an office building where they have the most comfortable chairs. Nicky assures Jose that he’s tight with security so they won’t be asked to leave the courtyard.

Jose thinks about that for a minute. “Oh,” he says when he gets it. “Sech! I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you eat without him.”

“No offense to Sech, but I found some nicer company.” Nicky winks at Jose, who smiles into his food.

Nicky wants to talk about things, but he’s also starving. Being rudely awakened in the morning didn’t leave him a lot of time for breakfast, and the banana he managed to grab on the way out the door didn’t last long. He digs into his food with the enthusiasm of a feral dog, hoping that he won’t scare off Jose, but also figuring that Jose has probably seen worse.

Jose doesn’t seem to mind, although he’s a very dainty eater. Nicky realizes he’s never seen Jose eat before, only drink coffee. It makes sense, though. Jose usually takes obnoxiously small sips of his black battery acid.

“We should have taken some coffee to go,” Nicky says. His plate is empty, and he pushes it away, mildly disgusted with himself.

“I don’t want to talk about coffee, Nick,” Jose says. He’s still eating, but he also sets his plate aside to see Nicky better.

“Oh?” Nicky says.

“I really just want to kiss you again,” Jose says. “Now that there’s no cameras. Or, at least, no cameras that Rebeca can watch.”

“I don’t know,” Nicky says, glancing at the cameras outside Sech’s building. “She’s pretty well-connected. She probably knows Jorge. Maybe she’s watching us right now.”

“Let her,” Jose says, and he pulls Nicky in to kiss over the table.


	10. Epilogue

Maluma makes his way to his usual coffee shop, wondering how much longer he’ll be frequenting this location. He hopes not too much longer. His girlfriend is starting to get tired of the weird coffee drinks he brings her.

Thinking about Natalia, he decides to take a detour to the office building where she works for a surprise visit. On his way towards there, he spots a couple of familiar faces sitting outside. They’re eating lunch, and Maluma is about to go say hello, but then he sees Jose lean across the table, hand on Nicky’s face, kissing him very sweetly.

Maluma does a quick one-eighty, smiling to himself. He’ll have to come back later. There’s no way he can sneak past unnoticed, and he doesn’t want to interrupt what is clearly A Moment. He continues walking, heading to the smoothie store instead. Time for something healthful now that coffee is no longer the order of the day.

He stands in line, eyeing the complicated menu, but really watching the short young woman in his peripheral vision. She’s nursing the last dregs of a smoothie, head resting on her hand. She sighs wistfully, gaze never leaving the pale cashier with heavily-done eyeliner.

Maluma gets to the front of the line. “Hi,” he says, smiling big.

The cashier eyes him, unimpressed. “Hello,” she says, voice flat.

Maluma tones it down a couple notches. “Can I have mango smoothie, please?”

“Size?”

“Medium, thank you.”

She gives him a very fake smile before turning on her heel to dump a variety of fruits in the blender. Maluma waits patiently, and soon he’s presented with his drink. He pays, leaving a tip in the jar. Before he leaves, he says, “I like your tattoos. They’re really cool.”

That gets a genuine smile from the cashier, and a glare from the woman in the corner. Maluma says thank you again and waves goodbye, hurrying out the door to get Natalia her smoothie before it starts to melt too much.


End file.
